


Ours will never be a goodbye

by andiwould



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Background Relationships, Bottom Arthur, Bottom Merlin, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Cliche, Coffee, Comfort, Dating, Denial of Feelings, Drunkenness, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Feelings, First Date, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Pining, Porn, Post Break-up, Reconciliation Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Romance, Separations, Slow Build, Switching, Time Skips, Topping from the Bottom, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:17:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andiwould/pseuds/andiwould
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there’s something like love at first sight —even though Arthur denies it completely— lots of coffee, snow, bad flirting involved and a lot of dropped objects in lieu of snogging which compose four years of happiness until uni finishes and with that Arthur's relationship with Merlin. Years later, in the simplest way, they find each other again, and those feelings they thought were forgotten resurface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ours will never be a goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting ever, which means I’m a bundle of excitement and nerves. Anyways, I owe a great deal of thanks to the four awesome girls who helped me out to make this; I honestly couldn’t have done this without you.
> 
> A massive THANK YOU to [maggie-f](http://maggie-f.livejournal.com) for beta-ing, but especially to [blue_eyed_1987](http://blue_eyed_1987.livejournal.com) and [endlesscharade](http://endlesscharade.livejournal.com) for the beta work, and the constant support. For putting up with my endless rambling and listening to me patiently, for all the cheering and encouragement when I was uninspired, and most importantly for your kind words and the brilliant suggestions that have helped me create a much prettier story. Big thanks to [drarryxlover](http://drarryxlover.livejournal.com) as well, for being a wonderful cheerleader ^^
> 
> I’ve had an amazing time writing the story, so thanks to [emjayelle](http://emjayelle.livejournal.com) for making the fest possible, too.

The first time Arthur sees _him_ — he feels as though the ground is trembling beneath his feet.

It’s probably because this bloke has tripped over his own feet and the chair he was about to sit on has scraped across the floor and almost flown to the other side of the room in an irritating, loud screech that has Arthur’s jaw clenching. 

All the eyes in the cafeteria fall upon the guy —who seems rather flustered at his own ineptitude— as he curses under his breath and his face flushes a pretty pink. He mumbles his apologies a couple of times to the whole room as he flinges his hands up in the air.

Arthur rolls his eyes and shuffles forward in his position in the queue, tapping his fingers inside his jeans pocket as he waits for his turn. Bored as he is, something makes Arthur's eyes shift around the room, remembering that game he used to play with Morgana when they were little and father dragged them out to lunch in an fruitless attempt at making family bonds. It never worked because Uther's idea of small talk was awkward and too serious and business-related for either of them to understand, so Uther ended up making business phone calls and Morgana and him playing to kill time. The game was about guessing what people's life was about just by looking at them, whether they were single or married, happy or not, if they were cheaters, where they worked. Those meals were the only moments in which Morgana and him would actually get along.

Arthur almost chuckles at the memory, his lips quirking upwards. He loves his sister, no matter how much they bicker, which is quite often, really.

He lets his eyes roam over the small crowd and they land on the bloke again for some reason he can't fathom. It’s then when Arthur really looks at him and feels as though all the air is being sucked out of his lungs.

It’s a little bit of a cliché; the moment —Arthur has to admit it— and no matter what Morgana says later about how it is love at first sight —which is not, thank you very much— Arthur goes a little bit weak on the knees when he takes a good peek at the bloke. He might be ridiculously clumsy, but he’s also ridiculously attractive.

He's dropped his messenger bag on the table and has managed to sit without another mishap, because he's now quietly looking down at the textbook in his hands. Arthur doesn't know if it’s the light coming through the window playing a good one on him, or the guy is really that impressive-looking, but Arthur forgets about the game and simply stares him up and down.

His head is slightly bent down as he reads, his eyelashes casting shadows on his high, sharp cheekbones and his skin seems to gleam, so pale and smooth-looking against the daylight. His neck looks impossibly long, and it seems to scream _bite me_ — though that’s probably Arthur's imagination.

But it isn't just that, or the dishevelled, yet sexy, dark, long hair falling over his eyes and curling around unfortunate and oddly appealing big ears, it’s the way he brings his croissant to his mouth absently, and he bites at it —without taking his eyes off his book and ignoring the fact that he’s burying the page in crumbs— in a way that makes his lips look plump and a delicious fleshy pink, what makes Arthur's mouth go all watery.

"Sir," Someone says distantly. "Sir."

Arthur blinks a few times, coming back to reality, and shakes his head away from the bloke to look at the chick with the green apron behind the counter. Apparently it’s his turn. Finally.

"Right, sorry," he apologizes for holding up the queue, and then rattles off his coffee order.

The girl nods and Arthur finds his neck craning to the side slightly. Arthur mentally slaps himself at his own ridiculousness, then tsks and lets his neck win the battle as he turns his head to look at the bloke again.

To his surprise, the guy isn't alone anymore. It isn't that what catches Arthur’s attention, but the fact that _Gwen_ is the one sitting beside him does. That means they know each other, which consequently means good news. 

Arthur replaces his small frown with a smile and then grabs his offered cup of coffee, pays, and makes his way across the rows of tables and straight towards Gwen and the bloke.

"Gwen, what a lovely surprise!" he says, and then cringes at his choice of words because he's seen her like two hours ago this morning.

Gwen stops talking and looks up at him. "Arthur." She smiles.

Arthur flickers his eyes towards the guy, and then back to Gwen, trying to subtly indicate that he would very much like an introduction. Gwen gets the hint and raises an amused eyebrow, but complies.

"Oh, Arthur, this is Merlin, he’s one of Lance's classmates." 

Merlin looks up at him from under his long black lashes, and Arthur almost loses his footing when two pair of bright blue eyes settle shyly on his own.

"Uh, I, nice to meet you," Arthur stammers, _actually_ stammers. What the fuck. He frowns at himself. Hard.

Merlin's obscene lips turn upwards a little just before he answers with a deep voice, "likewise."

Arthur smiles and then leans his hand on the back of the empty chair casually to hold himself upright.

Gwen apparently takes pity of his discomfort or maybe she does it on purpose in a evil momentum of matchmaking learnt from Morgana, when she grabs Arthur's sleeve and tugs him down to the chair beside Merlin's until Arthur's bum crashes against it a little bit too hard.

"Sit with us, Arthur," she says with a sort of sweet but wicked tone. She's definitely been spending too much time with Morgana lately.

Arthur tries a smile and then sips his coffee, not caring that it’s scalding his tongue and he’s probably making a weird face. "So," he says, clearing his throat, "you're a med student."

Arthur has never understood how Lancelot wants to be a surgeon. He supposes it is because the guy has a golden heart and is far too noble for his own good, but still Arthur could never do that. Not because he wouldn't like to help people —he often visited that animal shelter when he was little with Morgana. Well, animals aren't people but it still counts— but because blood secretly overwhelms Arthur. A lot.

Gwen leans her chin on her hand and looks between one another whilst Merlin closes his textbook and nods. "Yeah, uh, I am." He toys with the hem of his sleeve —that seems too long for him, but yet, it’s attached to a very tight grey shirt, which Arthur appreciates him wearing because does wonders to his tiny frame— and then proceeds to speak. Arthur nods along, too busy following the movement of Merlin’s lips and letting his mind wander to pay attention to whatever it is that it’s coming out of them.

When Merlin finishes, he looks at Arthur oddly and then two spots of red colour his cheeks. When Arthur realises he’s been caught staring too blatantly he averts his gaze, his cheeks burning as well— but because he takes another long gulp of burning coffee. Gwen looks as though she’s watching one of those cute videos of kitties she likes so much, looking between them and smiling too wide. Merlin fidgets with his sleeve again and then glances up quickly to the wall clock.

"Shit, I gotta go," he mumbles, pushing to his feet abruptly. Arthur startles a little and Gwen's big smile banishes. "I've got a lecture in five," Merlin explains as he grabs his bag, shoves his textbook inside and hangs the strap over his shoulder.

"Sorry," he says, wrapping long, slender fingers around his coffee cup. Arthur does not stare. "You can come over to my room tonight, Lance said he'll come, too," he says to Gwen— and Arthur almost feels disappointed he isn't invited. Then, Merlin turns to him with something like uncertainity.

He licks-nips at his bottom lip as he stares at him, cheeks still a nice pink, and Arthur finds himself smirking a little, pleased. "I guess I'll see you around."

Arthur nods slowly, raising his eyebrows. "Definitely."

"Right, um. Bye," Merlin says before he disappears through the door, managing to trip again with someone's feet and proceeding to apologize as he walks, causing him to almost bump against the door.

Arthur knows he’s smiling a little bit like a loon —but how can he not—, so when Gwen raises an amused eyebrow at him, Arthur schools his face into something more serious. Thankfully, she doesn't say anything, being too busy texting someone, probably Morgana.

Arthur is mortified enough for what has just happened; especially the fact that he has managed to lose his ability to speak and _tease_ in Merlin's presence.

It’s— _disturbing._

*

"So," Morgana begins over their weekly lunch appointment a few days later. "I heard you have a crush on someone." She picks up a chip with two flawlessly manicured fingers and brings it to her mouth.

Arthur raises an eyebrow —luckily managing not to choke— and keeps his gaze steadily on the table. "I heard you got too pissed the other night to walk straight and Gwen had to carry you all the way back to your room." He spits back, knowing that this is the way things work between them.

Morgana smirks at him, not looking embarrassed at all. "I did. Edwin put something funny in my drink. Nothing Gwen couldn't handle and a few painkillers couldn't cure."

"Who's Edwin?" Arthur frowns.

"Oh, just the barman," Morgana explains shortly, shrugging it off with a graceful wave of her hand.

"You should stay away from him," Arthur replies, inwardly concerned. Morgana only rolls her eyes and kicks him under the table in an odd way of hers to show affection. Arthur smirks in return.

"You're getting a softie, showing how much you care," she says with a fake pout, but Arthur can see how much she’s glad he does. "But come on, brother, tell me about that crush of yours." Morgana insists.

"I don't know what you're on about," Arthur replies, shoving a mouthful of food inside his mouth and feeling his neck heat as his mind drifts towards Merlin of its own volition.

"Okay, let me help you out a little." She croses her legs beneath the table and makes a pensive face. "Tall, thin, amazing blue eyes, kissable lips, sex hair, and incredibly clever, cute and shy? Ring any bells?"

"You make it sound like you're interested," Arthur says, only narrowing his eyes a little. He mentally agrees on everything his sister has said, even though he can think of a few more adjectives to add to the list.

Morgana wrinkles her nose. "Not sure if I stand a chance, really, I'm pretty sure I'm not his type, what with Merlin being gay and all that," she says and Arthur almost snorts at her unsubtle attempt to let him know Merlin likes guys. He smiles at the revelation, though, it makes things definitely much more interesting.

"Oh," he says casually, trying to look nonchalant. "Fine for him."

"And for you," Morgana replies with a knowing smirk.

Arthur rolls his eyes again but his smile gives him away. "Oh, shut up, Morgana."

"What? Can you blame me? If he were straight I'd have shagged him without a second thought but since he's not, I approve of you doing the shagging with him for me," Arthur shakes his head, holding back his smile. "Or Merlin doing that to you."

"Okay, enough. I'm not talking about my sexual life with you. That's just—"

"I know he prefers to top," Morgana continues, ignoring him completely and making Arthur go hot all over in places he shouldn't while being in a public place with his sister. Luckily the tablecloth is long enough. "And he's a bossy bottom, definitely not that shy in bed." She smiles absently, drinks from her glass with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Arthur stares up at her with wide eyes, "How the hell do you know those things?" he asks warily. His interest is irremediably piqued, but he's not really sure if he wants to know the answer.

He knows that she's got him where she wants when she looks so self-satisfied. "He's very chatty when he's drunk and he told me about a few guys he'd been with and a few of his kinks in bed, but you should ask him all about that, you'll love it," She winks at him and Arthur snaps his open mouth closed with a snap, swallowing too hard.

"You're taking the piss," he says, pointing at her with his fork. "You're evil, and a liar," He hisses the familiar words a little bit too loud and too high-pitched, trying to push the unwelcome, arousing images of Merlin doing kinky things and fucking Arthur anywhere possible. Merlin with those innocent blue eyes and long fingers.

She laughs mockingly. "Oh, I wish." Morgana stares at him and apparently takes in Arthur's flustered expression with delight, because her face lights up in a wicked grin.

"Why, are you having some trouble under the table? You're wiggling too much and your cheeks are a funny shade of red," she says, not bothering to hide her amusement.

"Just shut up," Arthur shoots back, avoiding her gaze for a second and trying to control his rebel hormones. When he casts a quick glance at Morgana again is to see her still grinning behind the rim of her glass.

 _Oh God,_ Arthur is so fucked, and not in the good sense of the word.

*

“Merlin should be somewhere inside. . . “ Gwen says loudly over the beating of the music as she guides them through the club. 

Arthur had, _subtly,_ insisted that he wanted to come with them as soon as he had found out that Merlin was going to _Camelot_ tonight. Gwen and Morgana had shared a look, but it had been his sister who had smirked knowingly and told him to _get a grip._

“I thought he would be studying or something,” Arthur replies absentmindedly, glancing around. “You always make him sound like a nerd.” It’s not as if Arthur has been asking about Merlin for the past weeks at all, it’s just that Arthur happens to be there when Gwen and Morgana talk about him, and he just listens.

There are times in which Arthur really feels sudden, violent urges to murder his sister and get rid of her body someplace horrible and away, so he can spend the rest of his eternity finally in peace. Right now, as Morgana chukles, is one of those moments.

“He _is_ a bit of a nerd,” Gwen replies fondly. “But nerds do have some fun sometimes as well, Arthur.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Right, my bad,” he replies sarcastically. 

Morgana pushes him towards the bar with too much force for a lady. “Shut your mouth and get us a drink, dear,” she says in that voice that scares Arthur infinitely. 

He narrows his eyes at her but heads towards the bar anyway because he wants something to drink, too. Not a minute later he grumpily holds up their favourite drinks.

“Thank you,” Gwen replies with an affectionate smile.

“Oh, there he is, our shy boy,” Morgana says, snatching her drink from Arthur’s grasp and looking straight ahead. There’s something naughty in her voice that makes Arthur even more curious, if possible, because it's Merlin they are talking about and surely he can’t be doing anything _naughty._

However, when he follows Morgana’s gaze, Arthur 's mouth falls open. He may even gape a little.

There, in the middle of the dance floor, is shy, clumsy, innocent Merlin grinding on some bloke under the colorful lights, plastered across his back, hand on the bloke's hair, twisting his head backwards just enough so his mouth can hover over his neck.

"Yeah, I can see how _shy_ Merlin is," Arthur voices his thoughts aloud, gripping his glass too hard in his fist. He's torn between being utterly shocked and irremediably aroused. 

Arthur had imagined Merlin being the one manhandled around, but the bloke’s face looks so blissed out, as if he’s in fucking heaven, and Arthur wants nothing more than to push everyone aside, make his way over, and occupy the guy’s place in Merlin’s arms.

Gwen's giggles snap his attention back to her, and Arthur sees Morgana smirking at him. "He is shy," Gwen says, reminding him that they are having a conversation. "Just not when he's tipsy."

“I can see that,” he repeats, at a loss. He sips and sips from his drink in an attempt to cool down until he finds himself swallowing air. Morgana's smirk spreads even wider —does Arthur truly amuse her that much?— and he wants to drown her in her drink so she stops looking so pleased at his expense all the fucking time.

Lance appears out of nowhere a moment later and kisses Gwen on the cheek, making her blush sweetly.

“Leon and Elyan texted me. They’re coming, too,” Lance explains as soon as he has greeted them all. 

Arthur sneaks Morgana a look and sees her smile shifting to something different. He isn’t a fool, no matter what Morgana says sometimes, and he knows that there’s something going on between her and Leon. He just chooses not to mention anything, knowing that it’s the wisest thing to do since she'd deny it anyway.

They all chat for a while next to the bar —though Arthur is pretty sure it’s more like girly gossip— or rather, his friends are the ones chatting. Arthur is far too distracted casting far too obvious glances towards Merlin, so he keeps losing track of the conversation every five seconds.

Leon and Elyan join them when Arthur has subtly adjusted himself in his jeans for what has to be the tenth time as he watches Merlin dance. Morgana disappears with Leon as soon as he arrives, not even giving Arthur the chance to say hi to him. Elyan is dragged away by some girl, too, leaving Arthur depressingly alone with the happy couple. He looks at them and almost feels the need to puke, because they are disgustingly perfect together. Gwen and Lance are just that kind of charming, lovely couple straight out of a fairy tale, that nobody can dislike no matter how hard they try. 

When Merlin —finally, for fuck’s sake— stumbles back towards them, he’s smiling too wide and walking rather unsteady. Arthur supposes he’s a little bit buzzed after all those sexy moves, because so is Arthur after watching. 

Arthur ruffles his own hair a little and smiles his most sexy smile —ignoring Gwen’s giggling— as he awaits to be noticed.

Merlin hugs both Lance and Gwen and when he sees and seems to remember Arthur, his smile turns to a surprised open mouth. Arthur shouldn’t be thinking about getting those lips anywhere near his body but he is. Merlin closes his mouth and then his cheeks turn pink— again. It’s like Arthur has that effect on him wich is flattering and endearing and makes Arthur’s heart seize just a little bit and his face break into a happy grin.

Merlin returns the gesture with a dopey smile and a coy _hi._

“Hey,” Arthur replies, miscalculating his tone and speaking too loud over the throbbing music. He cringes at himself, blaming his silly excitement —oh, God, he’s pathetic, thank fuck Morgana is not here— and then clears his throat.

“So,” Arthur yells, allowing himself to move a little bit closer and leaning his elbow against the bar behind him into a nice pose. “Where are your books tonight?” Arthur knows it’s a terrible pick-up line, and he really knows how to do this better, he's actually really witty— sadly, not in Merlin's presence. 

Apparently Merlin also has an effect on him.

Merlin raises his eyebrows and then laughs. “I left them in my room, they don’t like to party much.”

Arthur relaxes, glad that Merlin is playing along. “And do you? Because I think it's the first time I'm seeing you here,” he asks.

“I like it just fine, just don’t do it often, you know. I have a scholarship to maintain so studying comes first.” Merlin shrugs, and Arthur hums, even if Merlin probably can’t hear him.

“So I hear," he says. "That you're a bit of a nerd.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Merlin eyes him up and down briefly. “Besides, I rather be a nerd than a _snob._ ” He gives him a pointed look and whirls around to order another drink.

Arthur snorts instead of feeling offended when he cacthes the little smile playing around Merlin's lips. “I’ll have you know,” Arthur tells him with a pointing finger, getting Merlin’s attention back. “I’m a perfectly normal guy and nothing of a snob.”

Merlin smiles at him softly, somehow cheeky. “Come on, you’re all cocky and rich and gorgeous enough to believe so yourself, and okay, I might not know you much, Arthur, but everything about you makes everyone think so, from your looks to your surname.”

Arthur has stopped listening after hearing the word _gorgeous_ leaving Merlin’s lips. Merlin thinks he's gorgeous. Merlin thinks he's gorgeous and Arthur thinks Merlin's gorgeous, too. He feels as if he possesses the key to something important but he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I mean,” Merlin’s voice cuts midway into Arthur’s master plan to seduce Merlin with his natural charm. “I hope this isn't coming out the wrong way. You do seem like a nice guy though, it's just that— um, I have probably listened to Morgana nagging about you way too much.”

“You shouldn’t believe a word of what she says about me,” Arthur warns, leaving his plan for later, settling for a bit more of flirting now, because he likes it, likes Merlin's smile and his pink cheeks and how comfortable he looks even when he thinks Arthur's a snob. “And I’m not only nice, I’m kind of fantastic, actually.”

Merlin’s grin grows wider. “You see?” He chuckles, looking down at his drink with a faint flutter of his eyelashes.

“Wanna dance with me?” Arthur’s mouth asks abruptly without his permission. Merlin glances at him through his long fringe, half-amused, half-surprised before his smile becomes sheepish.

“Nah, I think I’ll pass,” he replies, sipping from his glass and turning away from him. Arthur stares at the back of Merlin’s head, at those strands of hair curling at his nape and the curve of his neck, the place where it meets his shoulder. He’s wearing a long-sleeved navy-blue t-shirt that Arthur hasn’t been able not to notice, sets off his eyes even bluer. Arthur has also realised in passing how his arse looks absolutely amazing in those tight jeans, too.

He smiles to himself when he catches Merlin sending him a quick sideways glance— he’s always liked a good challenge. “You sure?” Arthur insists, leaning a little bit closer unconsciously. “I’m excelent at it.”

“Is there something you’re not excelent at?” Merlin chuckles, his cheeks dimpling.

“Well. . .” Arthur pretends to think about it and when he feels Merlin’s eyes boring into him, Arthur finally meets his gaze, smirking slowly. “No.” 

Merlin laughs good naturedly and then pushes himself off the bar, abandoning his half-empty drink. Arthur’s heart races, hoping that Merlin has changed his mind and is going to take Arthur up on his offer to dance. But then Arthur follows the direction of Merlin’s gaze and notices the same bloke Merlin was dancing with before gesturing at him. Merlin holds Arthur's gaze for a moment longer before giving him something like a small smirk and walking away towards the bloke, leaving Arthur bewilderedly staring after him.

*

The second time Arthur runs into Merlin —literally— it goes definitely worse —or better, it depends on how you look at it—, because Merlin proceeds to bump against him as he rounds the corner, and spill his coffee all over Arthur's shirt.

There’s a tangle of limbs as Arthur tries not to burn his chest whilst Merlin tries to wipe the coffee rather unsuccessfully, and then he mumbles an amount of apologies and blushes, and generally looks as shy as Arthur had seen him the first time, nothing like the other night at _Camelot_.

"Are you always this clumsy?" Arthur snaps, looking down at his blue polo shirt with a brown coffee stain all over its front now, feeling grumpy and sexually frustrated. "Seriously, is it a natural talent or do you work at it?" The words are out of his mouth before he can think about what he’s saying.

Merlin looks offended for a second and Arthur feels a little bit guilty because his only intention with Merlin is to show him that he's more than the snob people make him out to be —and have sex— and he knows this isn't the way to get there. He raises an eyebrow and snorts, shaking his head. "You're a right prat," he says, shouldering past him. Arthur whirls around, not wanting to be ignored, not by Merlin, and quickly catches up and falls into step with him.

"I didn't mean that, I'm having a shitty day, and you emptying your coffee all over my Ralph Lauren shirt does not help," He points out, attempting to meet Merlin's gaze.

Merlin laughs softly. "You're so posh."

Arthur shrugs, he supposes he is. He has enough money to spend in designer clothes, so why wouldn't he. "Maybe, but I'm definitely not a— _prat._ "

Merlin looks at him from under his fringe with too blue eyes. "I'll be the one to judge that, I think." He makes a face. "Besides, after the other night I think you definitely are.”

“I’m really not, I was just trying to get a dance with you,” Arthur replies.

“And does your arrogance normally get you into people’s pants, because it’s not going to work with me, just so you know,” Merlin says, coming to a stop and facing Arthur. Arthur stops in his tracks, too, his gaze fixed on Merlin’s.

“Uh. . .” Arthur answers coherently, totally thrown off.

"Nevermind. Look, um," Merlin's cheeks go a shade pinker as he gives him a once over. "I can lend you my hoodie if you want so you don’t have to go around with a dirty shirt."

Arthur stares at him —his mind too far gone thinking about him wearing Merlin's clothes— but before he can speak, Merlin’s sliding the strap of his messenger bag off his chest and dropping it to the floor right before he takes his hoodie off. Merlin's frame is rather on the tiny side —Arthur can see that— but there are definitely some muscles hidden under that green shirt.

"Here," Merlin says, holding the hoodie out for him and pointedly avoiding his gaze. His hair has gone more in a disarray than usual, and Arthur wants to smooth it down, but luckily he restraints himself.

"You don't have to, I have only one more lecture, I can handle a coffee stain," he says out of politeness, but Arthur's hand grabs the hoodie before Merlin can think about it twice.

"Don't tell me you don't wear non-Ralph Lauren clothes," Merlin teases, and then shoots him a lopsided smile as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Arthur smiles back, maybe looking at Merlin for longer than necessary, maybe a bit too fondly. "I wear whatever, I'm not that picky," he answers, even if it's a bit of a lie. Arthur never wears hoodies but he would wear them everyday if they were Merlin's. 

He peeks around them and watching that they are mostly alone in the hallway, he drops his own bag to his feet and tugs his polo off his head, putting Merlin's hoodie on in its place. It’s warm from Merlin's body heat and it smells pleasantly of something clean and nice. It's also a little bit tight on him.

"There you go." Merlin gives him another quick once-over and manages to redden even harder, if possible. "It looks actually better on you than on me."

"That's because you're tiny," Arthur explains stupidly and, when Merlin's lips quirk upwards, Arthur feels a hot heat creeping up slowly to his face. "I mean, I'm just more— fit," he finishes lamely. 

Merlin chuckles. "I have to get going but you could— um, come to my room later and give it back? Not that I need it for tonight or anything, there's no hurry, but like—" Merlin stutters to an abrupt halt. He frowns, scratches the side of his neck. "Uh, just return it whenever it suits you. I'll see you around." And with that, he practically flees, disappearing inside some random classroom that Arthur is pretty sure is not the one Merlin is supposed to go to.

Arthur smiles to himself and makes his way to his own class.

If he spends most of his lecture distracted, playing with the small cord hanging over the collar of Merlin's hoodie, with his nose buried inside it and sniffing too much, well, no one needs to know that.

And if he doesn’t give it back until two weeks later when the smell is completely gone, well, Merlin definitely doesn’t comment on it, either.

*

It soon becomes a habit to follow Merlin around ("No, it's not stalking, Morgana, shut up." "Say what you will."), and Arthur looks for him everywhere he goes on campus. It’s easy to spot Merlin quickly, what with the way he always wears either his big headphones or those ridiculous cute beanies of his, or because he’s always nose-deep buried reading something or other and being extremely clumsy.

They discover pretty quickly that they don’t have much in common —Arthur loves sports but Merlin thinks them boring, they don’t like the same music or the little books Arthur ever reads, and they have mostly different opinions about pretty much everything except for the important things, where they luckily agree. They don't share many similarities, except an odd pull —or undeniable attraction, as Morgana and Gwen like to call it— towards one another that has them hanging around together often, if not in the hallway or cafeteria, at the library or their rooms, because it’s actually true that Merlin almost _never_ goes out.

It’s nice, _Merlin_ is nice, and soon what Arthur thought was only attraction grows into something different, something bigger Arthur has never felt before but thinks he knows pretty well what it means. It scares him a little he but doesn’t give it much thought, and most definitely doesn’t tell anyone.

*

Arthur is walking across the campus, quietly sipping from his hot cup of coffee, when he sees Merlin through the glass door of the library as he passes by. As soon as he has laid his eyes on him, Arthur stops dead in his tracks and just watches like the creeper he’s not.

Merlin takes his headphones off and stuffs them into his bag. He get his blue beanie out and shoves it down his head until only a few strands of dark hair poke through the cloth and his cold, red ears are safety warm under the heat of the cocoon of the wool. Arthur smiles to himself, pressing the cup to his lips as he watches Merlin pushing open the heavy glass door and step outside to the snowy day and chilly weather. Arthur makes his way towards him slowly, shaking his head to make the snowflakes fall from his hair, as he takes his hand out of his pocket.

He manages to tuck his coffee cup on the small portion of the open zip of his bag, and places it there, trusting it not to spill as he races towards Merlin from behind silently, and when he’s near enough, Arthur covers Merlin's eyes with his hands. Merlin stops abruptly and Arthur almost bumps into his back, biting his lips to suppress his laughter as he feels Merlin frown.

"Uh. . . " Merlin mumbles, and brings his hands up to touch his face, patting Arthur's hands until he pauses, touching his fingers to Arthur's ring and smiling against Arthur’s hands.

"Okay, how old are you again, Arthur, five?" Merlin says, huffing a laugh and still holding onto Arthur's hands, his cold fingers freezing Arthur's, but they are welcome as long as Merlin's hands stay clamped against his own.

"Probably," Arthur replies, letting go of him, and feeling actually somehow like a child around Merlin.

Merlin laughs, turns around to look at him. "Possibly," he replies, smiling at Arthur as he shakes his head, cheeks dimpling, and making Arthur's insides wobble.

Arthur can't help but smile back— it’s idiotic, really— as he watches the way the blue of the beanie makes Merlin's sparkling eyes look more gorgeous than usual, and the small snowflakes that have gotten caught on Merlin's eyelashes, accentuating their dark colour. He can't help but smile because of how red the tip of Merlin's nose is from the cold, and how much he wants to wrap his arm around Merlin's slim body and keep him warm.

It’s stupid how much his body buzzes with the need to kiss Merlin right now.

Arthur grabs his coffee and takes a quick sip for something to do as he falls into step beside Merlin. If he smiles a little too wide whenever their shoulders brush together, Merlin doesn't mention anything— mostly because he’s grinning, too.

Soon they’re talking about the Christmas break and where each of them is going to spend it. Arthur can't imagine himself being so far away from Merlin for weeks, it just seems unthinkable. Merlin’s going to Ealdor to visit his mum whilst Arthur is staying at his place here in London with Uther and Morgana.

He sighs as they come to a stop outside the science building where Merlin has his next lecture. He takes his beanie off and pushes it inside his bag, his black hair filling with small, white dots of snow. Arthur stops him when Merlin has murmured a _‘see you later’_ and he's about to turn around and go— he grabs Merlin's arm and whirls him around because he feels like he's missing something. 

Merlin glances up at him; seeming taken aback and with nervous.

"Look,” Arthur starts, “I was thinking we could—" but then, he never gets to finish that sentence, because suddenly Merlin is cursing and launching himself at Arthur, grabbing him by the nape and sealing his speaking lips with his own.

Arthur stands there frozen for a second, trying to process the fact that Merlin is kissing him for no apparent reason other than because _he clearly wants to_ — he’s kissing him there, in the middle of the campus and in the middle of a shower of falling snowflakes.

When Merlin’s pulling back —probably thinking that Arthur is a prat for not kissing back— and his sleeved hand is sliding down Arthur’s neck, Arthur lets out the air he hadn't even been aware of holding back, and then chases after Merlin's lips, driving him back towards him in an open-mouthed kiss that is nothing like Merlin's shy peck.

Arthur drops his cup of coffee to the floor —because well, it’s either that so he can grab onto Merlin, or hold onto the cup stupidly as he lets himself be kissed— and kisses Merlin with all his might, tangling his fingers in the warm strands of unruly hair as they snog the hell out of each other in a mess of shared breaths, cold chapped lips, small brushes of hot tongues and quiet gasps into each other's mouths. It’s mad and eager as well as bloody _hot,_ with no finesse whatsoever, and all that Arthur has been waiting for months. His mind is screaming _finally,_ his belly doing the funniest things, and Arthur has to try very hard not to smile too much into the kiss so they don't stop kissing ever.

Unluckily, Merlin has a lecture to attend to which Arthur’s pretty sure Merlin won't skip for anything in the world, so they have to detach themselves from one another a little reluctantly. When Merlin draws back Arthur feels wobbly and breathless and Merlin's full lips so red and shiny with Arthur's spit are doing strange things to Arthur's insides —and outsides, if the tingling he feels between his legs is anything to go by. 

Merlin smiles and then ducks his head down bashfully, his cheeks so flushed Arthur’s pretty sure Merlin can’t feel the cold anymore. "You left a coffee puddle on the floor," he says pointing at Arthur's cup of coffee.

Arthur doesn't care about the coffee and so he tells Merlin, who huffs a laugh, and then licks his lips, glancing at him coyly, and shrugging inside of his too-big hoodie.

"I, um, have to get to class but— we really could meet later, maybe?" Merlin's uncertainty makes Arthur frown. No way he’s going to miss another amazing snogging session. He's been wishing for one since he saw Merlin for the first time —okay, perhaps it was a little bit like love at first sight after all, not that he would admit that to Morgana, mind you.

"Yeah, of course. Definitely," Arthur says, tucking his hands inside his pockets so he won’t reach out for Merlin again.

"Good." Merlin grins all dimple-y like and then chuckles before he disappears inside the door, glancing back at Arthur over his shoulder once with a bright smile.

Arthur sighs —not besotted like— and bounces on the heel of his feet happily, resisting the urge to punch his fist in the air like a kid, before he whirls around and heads to his own lecture, hiding his idiotic smile in the wool of his scarf.

*

That evening, as Arthur walks over towards Merlin’s place, he wills his nerves to calm down. There’s this flutter inside of his belly; anticipation and hope, desire, and when Merlin opens the door, barefoot, with baggy sweatpants and a worn-out looking shirt, with his hair slightly damp, eyes sparkling and a small, dorky smile, Arthur’s heart just takes off.

Merlin blushes a little, huffs a laugh when Arthur just stands there, unmoving and silent, and tugs him inside with a pull on his shirt. Arthur looks around at Merlin’s room nervously as messy as usual with his stuff scattered everywhere.

“So, what do you wanna do?” Merlin asks a moment later, bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly and smiling, fiddling with the hem of his sleeves like he does when he’s nervous.

“Um,” Arthur tries to come up with a witty retort, anything, really, but his mind keeps screaming ‘sex’, because he's eighteen and a horny bugger and he really can’t help it, especially not around Merlin.

“Battlefield?” he suggests for a lack of something else.

“Okay,” Merlin says, turning the tv on and couching down to set everything up.

Arthur sighs, takes his jacket off —because it’s actually hot in Merlin’s room— and tries his hardest not to ogle Merlin’s arse —until he does.

“So, is your flatmate getting here soon?” Arthur asks, clears his throat and slumps to Merlin’s bed, tugging at his collar back and forth to get some air.

Merlin looks at him over his shoulder. “No, I told Mordred not to come over tonight if he didn’t want to walk on us having sex,” Merlin replies as he sets the console up, and Arthur almost chokes on the non-existent air, feeling his face burn in embarrassment.

It’s like Merlin has been reading his mind for the past minutes, because honestly, that’s the only thing Arthur has been able to think about since he arrived. Only, the fact of hearing it coming out of Merlin’s lips like that, so airily, definitely does not help Arthur ease the knot inside of his stomach or the need to throw himself at Merlin and snog him senseless until they are both unable to speak coherently at all.

Merlin whirls on him and passes him one controller, lingering his hand on Arthur’s just slightly and glancing at his face, frowning when he catches sight of Arthur’s flustered expression.

“That was a joke. I didn’t tell him _that,_ ” he says coyly.

“Right,” Arthur deadpans. “So—” He takes a breath, “is this like, a date to you, though?”

Merlin’s lips quirk upwards slightly. “Yeah, something like that.” He stares at Arthur intensely for a beat. “You don’t want it to be? Because it can not be, you know.”

“No,” Arthur says, grinning. “I do.”

Merlin beams at him. “Great.” He flips down on the bed next to Arthur, fixing his gaze on the screen as he starts the game, craning his neck to the side and giving Arthur the nicest view of his throat.

“Do you want something to eat, pizza maybe, something else. . . what do you want?” Merlin asks distractedly.

Arthur stares at Merlin unconsciously —just a little— because it’s not as though he can help it with the way Merlin is casually lying on his bed, leaning on his elbows, with those ridiculous big clothes and his blue eyes, biting his lip and with his damp hair curling at his nape ever so slightly— it’s making Arthur’s pulse roar in his ears, and his fingertips tingle with the need to touch, reminding him that he has all the hots for Merlin.

He flickers his eyes to Merlin’s face, cutting his thoughts before they get too filthy or the unmistakable bulge in his jeans grows bigger, and replies simply, “You.” And well, Arthur does realise how that sounds, but it’s just the truth, and his mouth seems to like making him look like a fool when he’s with Merlin.

Merlin blinks at the telly for a heartbeat, his fingers going still, and then turns his head to the side to look at him and stares at Arthur with those piercing eyes, with his lips slightly parted just before they pull up into a crooked smile and he laughs sweetly.

“Do you really want to play to video games?” Merlin asks in a low voice.

“Well,” Arthur says, feeling all kinds of awkward. He’s never tried so hard to hold himself back, and neither has he had so much trouble trying to sleep with someone in the past. He usually just gives the guys a wry smile and they literally fall into his bed. “No,” he finally replies.

“Then. . . Let’s play something else.” Merlin’s voice has fallen almost to a whisper and Arthur has to lean closer to be able to hear what Merlin is saying. And when he’s _that_ near, it seems _just right_ that Arthur inches that little bit closer and presses his lips against Merlin’s, blinking his eyes closed and slipping his tongue past Merlin’s parted lips with a quiet, needy gasp.

Merlin tosses the controller he’s holding aside, sending it to the floor with a crash neither of them pays attention to, and then brings Arthur down by fisting the hem of his shirt and pulling until Arthur falls on top of him. He kisses Arthur hungrily but slow, touching his tongue to everywhere inside Arthur’s mouth in the most maddening way as Arthur slips his hand inside Merlin’s loose shirt, easily stroking his hot skin under Arthur’s own warm fingertips, and making Merlin pant against his mouth when he runs his fingers just below his ribs.

Merlin sneaks one of his thighs between Arthur’s and caresses his knee against Arthur’s balls, so unexpectedly that catches Arthur off guard, making him moan helplessly and break the kiss, sending all the blood in his body southwards in a rush.

“Fuck,” he says, only stopping to catch a quick glimpse of Merlin’s already red lips and then going back to kissing, aligning his hips with Merlin’s and rutting a little to get some friction before he dies of want. He buries his hand in Merlin’s thick hair and rocks his hips against him for a moment, dropping his forehead against Merlin’s and breathing hard over his lips.

Merlin just thrusts back against him and throws his head back, allowing Arthur to attack his neck with sucked kisses and small scratches of teeth.

“Take your clothes off,” Merlin says hoarsely, hitching his fingers inside Arthur’s jeans, “I want to see you naked.”

Arthur might groan, he doesn’t know. He strips Merlin of his clothes first, easily, but it takes him a while because he stops to mouth at Merlin’s chest after he’s tugged his shirt off and nibbles at Merlin’s nipples gently, and then again because he pauses after he’s pulled Merlin’s sweatpants out of the way to stare at Merlin’s hard cock through the thin cotton of his briefs, just admiring the long, hard line of his dick and maybe letting out another small groan at the sight of the red head poking through from the side of the waistband.

Arthur gets a little bit distracted after that, which is perfectly understandable, and it’s a little bit more of a struggle to get Arthur out of his own clothes, starting with the tight jeans that have Merlin cursing, and the three shirt buttons that Merlin almost tears apart in a flurry of rage when his fingers decide to get clumsy. As soon as Merlin is lying back on the bed Arthur yanks his briefs off and Merlin’s cock bobs free, sending Arthur’s mind racing, remembering Morgana’s words about what Merlin liked to do in bed as he stares at his cock open-mouthed.

“Stop staring at it,” Merlin says, half-amused, half-embarrassed, with two spots of red high on his cheeks. Arthur feels his face heat, too, so he averts his eyes quickly and takes his own boxers off.

Merlin pushes Arthur back to the bed and settles on top of his thighs, looking down at him and smiling briefly before he leans down and kisses him, the slide of their slippery cocks together is electric, and Arthur’s whole body buzzes with _want_ and _need_ and _right now._

Arthur presses Merlin closer, grabbing him by the back of his neck and opening his jaw as far as it will go to allow Merlin better access to his mouth, leaning his head back and letting Merlin plunder his mouth with abandon, with a serie of eager and fierce kisses and responding equally enthusiastic. Tilting Merlin’s face to the side to kiss his jawline, sucking a kiss there and biting at his earlobe softly, running his hands everywhere over Merlin’s soft skin, the hollow between his shoulder blades and the curve of his arse, wanting to feel all of it at once under the palms of his hands, as he moves his hips up against Merlin’s.

“Merlin—” he murmurs, between kisses. “I want to—”

“What? Tell me,” Merlin whispers against his lips, as he keeps on placing kisses down Arthur’s chin.

“I want you to fuck me,” Arthur mumbles the words against Merlin’s cheek, somewhat embarrassed. Thinking about it as he wanks is one thing, but it feels like something too private to say out loud, no matter how much he wants it.

Merlin groans against his throat, breathing a warm puff of air and glancing up at him with hungry, wide-blown eyes.

“Shit. Really?” Merlin asks, sounding surprised and hopeful at the same time, his eyes timid but ablaze.

“Yeah,” he replies shakily.

“Turn around,” Merlin husks, scrambling off him and grabbing lube and a condom, wiping every other thought from Arthur’s mind.

Arthur turns around and lays on his stomach, pillowing his head on his crossed arms and ducking his head to the side so he can see Merlin from the corner of his eye.

He’s never been so aroused in his entire life. He’s felt attracted to a lot of guys before but he’s been dancing around Merlin for _months_ when Arthur usually takes the guys to his bed the same night he meets them. It’s the desire, burning inside of him, the knowledge that he’s finally doing it, releasing the sexual tension between them that’s been eating him for so long and the pleasure, that feels frustrating and relieving, and Arthur is torn between doing it quickly or making it last, take it slow to savour the feeling of it all.

“What are you—” he says, watching Merlin dipping his head down towards his arse and feeling Merlin spreading his arse cheeks apart. “—oh, fuck,” is all he’s able to say when a hot tongue swipes over his hole, clenching at the first contact, and feeling another stab of desire and a tingling travelling to his toes and over his belly at the second lick, going all the way to his legs and his feet, and sending the blood rushing straight to his hard cock, leaving Arthur rutting against the sheets and babbling incoherences as Merlin stretches him open him with his tongue.

Arthur’s brain is fried, his hormones probably flying freely around the room, and his mind going from _‘oh, fuck, yes’_ to _‘nggh, don’t stop’_ when Merlin swirls his tongue inside Arthur’s hole over and over, hot and wet, and feeling Merlin’s small moans vibrate all over his arse as well as the huffed breaths of hot air breathed against his sensitive skin. He feels like in one of those porn videos Arthur watches at nights but much better because he is the one doing it. It’s not as if Arthur is a virgin but this is the first time that someone has actually licked at his arse in such a way —or in any kind of way, really— and it feels like it’s going to make Arthur come apart any second before the real fun starts.

He moans against the pillow, gripping it with his hands, feeling heat creep up over his neck and his face as Merlin keeps pushing his tongue inside and palming Arthur cheeks apart with his hands. It’s filthy and hot and Arthur’s cock keeps twitching against the mattress, hard and leaking because this is the hottest thing Arthur has ever experienced. He can hear the dirty sounds Merlin’s mouth keeps making and that’s enough for Arthur’s eyes to roll inside of his head.

“Merlin,” Arthur drawls against the pillow, demanding more and pushing back against the warmth of Merlin’s tongue.

Merlin understands and soon he’s slipping one finger past the ring of muscle easily and Arthur just closes his eyes, focusing all his senses on what Merlin is doing to him, in the sensation of Merlin’s finger inside of him, feeling a second one joining the first after a few strokes, accompanied by a few licks here and there and a few nips over his arse cheeks.

The way Merlin wiggles his fingers inside of him, pushes them in and out deep, is making Arthur’s cock throb, ready to explode any second and making him come unexpectedly as soon as Merlin brushes the spot inside of him that makes Arthur see stars.

He muffles the sounds coming out of his lips against the pillow, clenching hopelessly around Merlin’s fingers and stopping Merlin for a second with a hand on his wrist as his whole body trembles and his cock pulses, caught between his belly and the sheets, leaving him feeling exhausted but wanting more.

“God, look at you,” Merlin says when Arthur turns his head to look at Merlin, his mouth and chin glistening with spit, making Arthur’s cock fill again.

“Just get on with it, Merlin,” he growls, shaking Merlin’s hand a little and urging his fingers to move again.

Merlin complies, fucking him with his fingers and teasing Arthur with a third one for a little bit before he withdraws them altogether. Arthur hears the sound of condom wrapper ripping open and when he whirls his head around Merlin is wetting his fingers with the lube and pressing them back inside Arthur, just once before he nudges the tip of his cock against Arthur’s hole.

“Wait,” Arthur says, pushing himself up on his knees and forearms and pressing his arse back against Merlin’s cock, shooting him a smirk over his shoulder when it rubs in between his arse cheeks.

“They were giving away an amount of these condoms in our lecture the other day just because,” Merlin says out of the blue, grabbing Arthur’s hip with one hand and kneeling closer, “and they said these are supposed to be like super thin, extra sensitive or something like that, you know.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says incredulous, not believing that Merlin has decided to start talking now, about to turn to glare but moaning instead when Merlin pushes inside of him, sliding slowly in.

“That it feels like you’re doing it bare,” Merlin continues, his own voice stained and trembling slightly as he guides himself inside Arthur.

Arthur hangs his head down when Merlin has completely sunk in, filling him deeply and warm, closing his eyes when Merlin begins to pull back and thrust back inside. It stings a little despite all the spit and lube, but it only makes it more pleasurable, that slight small burn mixed with the magnificent slide of Merlin’s cock in and out, just makes it better.

Merlin hands are shedding warmth wherever they fall upon the skin of Arthur’s back, when they grab to Arthur’s shoulder or his hair, or where they roam over Arthur’s spine and his hips. His lips are swollen and soft when Merlin kisses the same places he touches whilst he moves against Arthur’s body, setting him on fire.

Arthur’s arms and legs are shaking with the effort of holding himself upright by the time Merlin pulls away and they switch positions. Arthur tugs at his —once again— hard cock and flops down on the mattress, looking up to see a flushed Merlin moving to settle between his parted legs and then down to steal a quick kiss, mumbling something against Arthur’s lips Arthur doesn’t catch, far too gone to listen properly, focusing his attention on skating his hands across Merlin’s chest, or moving them down to cup Merlin’s cock and give it a few, lazy tugs, making Merlin moan against his mouth.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathes, urgently pulling away of his hand and pushing right back inside Arthur, pressing the full length of his body against his until they are practically linked everywhere they are touching.

Merlin’s rhythm becomes quick and shallow and he pants over Arthur’s mouth, his cheek, just blowing air and small sounds at the same time Arthur’s hands scramble to grip to somewhere, at Merlin's back, his shoulders, looking for something to hold onto whilst Merlin pounds into of him, hard and frantic, and Arthur’s cock rubs back and forth trapped between their stomachs to the maddening friction of each move of Merlin above him, making Arthur’s hips buck up and his cock jerk for the second time.

He hides his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck, scrunching his face as he moans low in his throat, ragged and broken, as his hole squeezes around Merlin’s cock whilst Merlin keeps on fucking him, and Arthur’s cock sputters between them. He’s gripping Merlin’s shoulder with his hands so hard he must be leaving a handprint on Merlin’s pale skin but he can’t bring himself to care, not when his orgasm is hitting him so hard it almost hurts.

Arthur is so lost in himself, he barely realises that Merlin is coming, too, only noticing when Merlin stops moving and he lets out a big sigh against Arthur’s jaw. A few moment pass and neither of them moves, until Merlin slips out of him with a wet pop, and takes care of the condom and the come on Arthur’s belly, whilst Arthur closes his eyes, lying there boneless and letting his legs drop down to the mattress.

When Merlin falls down beside him, Arthur opens his eyes slightly to peek at him and finds Merlin already looking back at him.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Merlin says, placing his hand over Arthur’s chest.

Arthur wants to roll his eyes, tell him that he doesn’t care about the pulsations he can feel on the vein in his neck, or tease Merlin because he sounds like the med student he is, but the only sound that comes out of his lips is a snorted huff of laughter.

Merlin doesn’t seem to mind, he only covers Arthur and himself with a blanket —which Arthur appreciates, because it’s getting cold now— and then smiles stupidly and sighs again.

They lie there pliant and completely exhausted, and Arthur drags his arm over Merlin’s stomach, feeling Merlin’s fringe tickle against his shoulder. 

Arthur takes a last look at Merlin’s calm face right before he dozes off himself, welcoming the sleep pulling him in with a happy grin.

*

Everything is a flurry after that. 

They spend all the time snogging too much, groping and grinding against each other madly everywhere they go like love-sick teenagers. People give them alarmed looks when they catch them making out in the library, hidden in the history section and messing the shelves with a book or two on the floor, or in the public loos, or empty classrooms, and their friends stay away from them, saying that they are far worse than Lance and Gwen— which is okay with them because all they want is to be left alone, really. They sleep a lot less because the nights are spent in bed doing everything but sleeping, and Arthur wakes up everyday like a zombie, sleep deprived, tired and sore, and with marks and love-bites everywhere he doesn’t bother to hide.

Life goes on, and it’s good, more than good. Arthur is getting good results in his classes and his father is proud, encouraging him to keep his work up and congratulating him for his results. He and Morgana seem to be getting along better than ever because she says that she’s changed her mind a little about him now that she’s seen he has a _heart._ He spends his Merlin-free time playing football with the guys and clearing his mind from too much economics.

And then there’s Merlin, who hasn’t only become his boyfriend but also his best friend —a fact that Leon doesn’t seem to mind— and they spend practically all the time joined either at the hips or their mouths. Merlin is quiet but restless, shy but cheeky, he’s clever and silly, quirky and peculiar, and Arthur has never been more infatuated with someone before.

Their relationship is a little bit like a whirlwind sometimes. They are clingy but they fight a lot, though it never matters because they can’t be away from each other for too long and the make-up sex is always incredible. Times passes by, quickly, and their relationship changes to something more serious— though it’s still pretty wild most of the time. Their friends often wonder how they have managed to be still together after three years but the truth is that neither Merlin nor Arthur know, either, but Arthur wouldn’t want it being other way.

It’s not until their last year at Uni that Merlin meets some other med student called Gwaine. Arthur doesn’t mind Merlin having his own friends away from their group, he knows how much Merlin loves him —everyone knows— but it’s not until Arthur meets Gwaine himself that he starts getting worried. It doesn’t take him much more than a quick look at him to know the kind of guy this Gwaine bloke is. All tall, and handsome, charming and a flirt, always smiling at Merlin and hugging him, throwing his arms around Merlin. Arthur doesn’t like him in the slightest; he knows very well the way Gwaine is because Arthur was like that, as well. He convinces himself and Merlin that it’s fine; Merlin can be friends with whomever he likes and Arthur accepts that because he _trusts Merlin._

The only problem is that he doesn’t trust _Gwaine._

It turns out that Gwaine soon becomes friends with Percy and Elyan —much to Arthur’s displeasure— and before Arthur can do much as a blink once, Gwaine has already settled comfortably in their group of friends, having befriended all and everyone of them, both the guys and the girls.

Arthur knows Morgana is shooting daggers at him from across the table because he’s glowering at Gwaine too hard, but Arthur can’t help it when Merlin laughs too loud at one of Gwaine non-funny jokes. He swallows, trying to control his anger and annoyance and wraps his arm tighter around Merlin’s shoulder instinctively. Merlin feels it right away, and as soon as he stops laughing, he turns his head to him and leans his face closer until he’s speaking against Arthur’s cheek and the side of his ear when no one can see what he’s saying.

“Are you jealous?” He sounds incredulous, slightly amused but mostly serious. It’s not as if this is the first time Arthur has felt jealous through their three-years relationship; whenever someone tries to hit on Merlin Arthur can’t help acting possessively.

He clenches his jaw, not caring that Merlin will feel it from where his face is pressed against Arthur’s, but Merlin only smiles and brings his hand to Arthur’s belly, sneaking his hand inside his shirt under the table and caressing his skin, curling his fingers around Arthur’s side. Arthur relaxes, closing his eyes briefly at the soothing gesture and forgetting that all their friends are right there, probably with an eye on them.

“Don’t be silly, you know I love _you._ No matter how much of a prat you are and how much time has passed you know I do,” Merlin whispers, kissing his jaw twice and his lips once, giving him a filthy snog that leaves Arthur gasping for air, before pulling away to give him a reassuring, honest look.

Arthur knows, he truly does, but he can’t help acting defensively around Gwaine, it’s an instinct. He’s not willing to let _anyone_ take Merlin away from him, he won’t allow Gwaine to think he stands the smallest of chances because he doesn’t.

“Besides, your jokes are much funnier.” Merlin winks at him sweetly and Arthur huffs a laugh. Merlin scoots a little closer, a huge grin on his face, and slides his feet over Arthur's so that Arthur's trainers are hooked in between Merlin's Converse, and their legs are warmly pressed together.

Arthur doesn’t even have to feign his smile, because with Merlin’s words and gestures it comes out genuine. He looks straight at Gwaine to see him staring right back at them —at _Arthur,_ with an expression of disdain, maybe envy, even— on his face which tells Arthur that, no matter how much Gwaine tries to win Merlin, he has also seen how unlikely it is to happen.

*

Arthur walks in his room, all sweaty from playing football, cheeks flushed and his fringe plastered to his forehead in dark tufts of blond hair. He sighs, throws his sports bag to the floor carelessly. He's burning up, so he tugs his shirt over his head. Merlin gives him a once over from where he’s sprawled on Arthur's bed with his back against the wall and his textbook and notes all over his lap and the mattress, surrounded by highlighters and pens and papers.

“You should stop wearing those shorts in my presence, they are distracting,” Merlin says out of the blue, his gaze fixed on the book over his bent knees. Arthur raises an amused eyebrow as he drinks from the bottle of water he’s brought with him, and looks at the expanse of pale skin visible where Merlin’s own shorts have ridden up, showing practically his whole thighs.

“You’re wearing shorts too,” he points out, “ _my_ sport shorts, by the way.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and places the bottle on the desk, kicking his trainers off.

Merlin shrugs one shoulder, his lips turning upwards. Arthur walks over to the feet of the bed until his knees hit the mattress and stares down at Merlin, who shouldn’t look nearly as sexy just lying there, studying. He places one knee on the bed and watches in amusement as Merlin glances up at him from under his fringe with a small smile.

“Merlin,” Arthur says as he kneels closer, but he’s soon stopped with Merlin’s bare foot against his damp chest. 

“I’m studying,” Merlin says, sounding far too pleased for Arthur’s liking.

“And I’m horny,” Arthur replies, bringing his hand up to caress Merlin’s leg, stroking past fine dark hair and upwards until he can sneak his hand inside of the loose fabric of his shorts. Merlin takes a sharp intake of breath when Arthur touches his inner thigh where he knows Merlin’s more sensitive, his muscles tensing beneath Arthur’s hand. Arthur crawls closer still until he’s settled between Merlin’s knees, then closes the book slowly and places it on the nightstand when Merlin doesn’t complain, tugs Merlin down until he’s lying amongst a bunch of yellow highlighters and pens.

He lies down atop of Merlin’s familiar body with his forearms at either side of Merlin’s head and brushes his fringe out of his blue eyes, aligning their bodies just the way he likes. He places a couple of wet kisses on Merlin's throat, then on his jaw and on his lips, giving him a slow snog, his hand stroking Merlin's hairline still.

“You need to stop groping me like this,” Merlin says before his hand comes to the small of Arthur's back and pushes down, bringing their crotches together. 

“Not going to happen,” Arthur replies with a smile.

Merlin nips at Arthur's bottom lip playfully before grinning, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s. And Arthur would fall head over heels for him simply for small little gestures like that one if he wasn't completely crazy about him already.

“Shower,” Merlin breathes against his mouth a few snogs later, shoving Arthur off him and scrambling to his feet hastily, sending highlighters flying and bouncing off everywhere. Arthur laughs at Merlin’s tented shorts and Merlin just kicks him on the foot with a smile and disappears into the bathroom.

Arthur runs after him.

*

“I’m not sure if the chocolate idea was actually such a great idea after all,” Merlin complains, squirming in Arthur’s arms, scratching at his shoulder.

The whole situation is kind of tatty and screams romantic in capital letters and Arthur doesn’t usually do romantic—well, not much anyway. Yet, today the occasion calls for it, so Arthur can’t really complain. Not that Arthur is into food porn or anything, but Merlin fancied chocolate earlier and wanted sex, so this happened.

Now, as Arthur takes a peek at Merlin, he can’t help but chuckle. He turns his head to the side, looks at Merlin’s face covered in brown in some places, and licks at a chocolate spot on Merlin’s cheek the same way he’s been tasting Merlin’s body covered in chocolate for the past hour.

“I think it was,” he whispers, kissing lower and gifting Merlin with a kiss on the mouth, with too much tongue and lots of sweet chocolate taste.

Merlin smiles into the kiss and then shifts and climbs on top of Arthur beneath the huge blanket they have brought with them. It’s cold on the roof despite the warm summer night, and it’s also the only place where they can be completely alone and unmolested in their last night together. Both of them have refused the idea of going to Camelot because it had seemed much better staying here, just the two of them, for the last time.

His —not for much longer— boyfriend clings to him like a second blanket, surrounding him by warmth and love, and kisses him sweetly, caressing his jaw with his thumb and wriggling their feet together. Arthur feels both at ease but incredibly uneasy. There’s a knot inside of his gut that keeps reminding him of the situation. Their almost four-year relationship comes to an end tonight and no matter how little Arthur likes the idea, they have both agreed that it’s for the best.

Merlin’s getting a few medicine courses outside of London to work on his surgery specialization, which means he’s going to be away for a while. And since Arthur’s going to be under his father’s command practically twenty-four hours a day trying to learn the ropes of his father's company, they have decided it's better to leave things here rather that remain in a relationship they are not certain will able to suffice. Communication and regular visits are going to be difficult due to their different schedules and since there's no guarantee that nothing won't change their best option is to end it now and stay friends— no matter how hard it proves to be.

Working for his father is not what Arthur truly wants, but only Merlin knows that. Merlin has tried to change Arthur’s mind so many times, telling him to literally tell his father to _fuck off_ and has encouraged Arthur to study law as he has always wanted, but Arthur just can’t do that to Uther. He’s his father, after all, and no matter how many differences they have, Arthur will always strive to make him proud, even if that means sacrificing his own happiness. He can do that. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s soft voice fills his senses, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts. “Stop thinking so hard.”

Arthur eyes Merlin for a moment, taking in his tousled hair where Arthur had buried his hands just moments ago as they moved against each other under the stars, his blue eyes and his private, slightly sad smile..

“We promised no thinking would be involved here tonight,” Merlin leans closer to speak against his lips.

“You're right,” he replies, smoothing Merlin’s hair down and feeling chocolate sticking to his hand.”

Silence falls again over them, seizing all the unspoken words hanging between them. Merlin has turned into his lifeline and Arthur is not sure how is he supposed to _let go._ It makes his chest ache.

But he has to.

He can’t stay in uni forever. These past four years have been the best Arthur could have hoped for, but they couldn’t last forever. So Arthur holds Merlin closer, savours the feeling of Merlin's skin against his own for the last time and tells himself to enjoy the few hours they still have left before it all ends and Arthur is left alone to face the world.

**5 years later.**

 

_Beep._

"Arthur, dear, it's me. We're meeting again tonight at the pub," Morgana's voice speaks through the answering machine, her tone unsure, "I know you might think this futile once more, but it's been five years, you should come just this once."

There's a silence, a deep breath, "Just think about it, at least," and then a sharp click.

_Beep._

Arthur sighs, massages his temples and closes his eyes.

He's alone, the office is empty and there's no one waiting for him when he gets home. He'd lie if he said he has something better to do because he doesn't.

Hearing Morgana's messages— something stirs inside of him every time. He knows how much time has passed, he doesn't need any reminder. It's like he has a fucking calendar inside of his head, and he doesn’t even mean to count the time, but he knows exactly how many times it’s been.

Arthur ignores the voice message for a couple of minutes, looking down at the finished reports lying on his desk, and convincing himself to just go home and sleep, because this has been an exhausting week and he’s tired. Because as he always tells himself, he’s not in the mood for a night in a pub. He doesn’t want to go, he never does.

It usually happens around three times a year. His group of friends from Uni meet at Camelot _—’to carry on with tradition’, Morgana likes to say—_ to keep in touch after all these years so they don’t lose the friendships they built. 

All but Arthur, that is.

It’s not that Arthur hasn't seen them since his last year at Uni, because he sees Gwen —and Lance, too, since they're still together and Lance comes to the office more often than not to pick Gwen up— everyday at work as well as Morgana and Leon. He meets with Percy sometimes, too, to play footie along with Elyan, but that's it. All that he knows about the rest is because he's been told about it, not because he has been there to hear how they have been doing himself.

Arthur has never, not once, attended one of the many meetings, always using the excuse that he was busy. The two first years it was true, he was actually occupied trying to get Avalon Enterprises up and run it on his own, but then he just couldn't do it so he kept saying no every time, always excusing himself with late business meetings and lots of belated paperwork to do.

Morgana always lets him know whenever they are to meet at the pub, and then she always gives him cold, reproaching looks when she sees him the next day at work because he never dares to show up. Arthur is not a coward like she says, but there are some things, some things that are better not to dig up from the past, because no matter how much time has passed, Arthur believes it’s better to keep them like that— _buried._ It’s the best for everyone, really, Arthur knows it it, though Morgana, apparently, disagrees.

"We were all waiting for you, Arthur," she accused Arthur the first time after they had arranged a meeting and he had dumped them, storming into his office without permission. "Merlin asked where you were. . . He sends his regards." Arthur's traitorous heart had raced at the mention of Merlin's name, as if recognising him, but Arthur stayed quiet; impassive on the outside, broken in the inside.

"He told me he misses having you around." Morgana's voice had gone soft, and when Arthur had looked up at her, she probably had seen how much Arthur missed Merlin back, and how much it hurt to make the effort to go and see him. Less than a year wasn't enough time to heal, and Arthur couldn't do it by then.

That was —and still is— probably, the thing that ached the most when she explained about how they first meeting had gone, and also, the reason why Arthur can never go.

No matter how amicable his and Merlin's break-up was, it doesn't mean it didn't hurt. And the fact that it was agreed from both sides only made it worse— but Arthur realised that too late. He could have handled a broken heart as long as Merlin had broken things up with him for whatever reason, as well as the other way around, but knowing they still loved one another when they split, made it only more difficult to get over it.

They promised they would be fine on their own when they parted ways, but Arthur wasn’t. He spent a whole year totally lost, _moping_ —Morgana's words, not his— and trying to find himself and get his life back. His heart was broken into pieces Arthur didn't know how he would be able to gather and put back together. It was hard for a while, Arthur had never loved anyone the way he learnt to love Merlin, and Merlin had been so present in Arthur’s life during four years— like a constant or the need for air, he had turned into his lifeline— that Merlin had been somehow _engraved_ in Arthur’s heart.

Now, Arthur can’t help but regret that break-up every day since, because as soon as he wakes up and pats the empty bed at his side, he realises all the mistakes he made and that have lead Arthur to where he is right now; alone and declining the idea of commitment with someone again.

But five years is a long time, and feelings pass and change, memories fade to the back of your mind, and everything that troubles you for a while goes away, the pain gets easier to deal with and you get used to it, eventually, until it’s gone or simply becomes part of who you are.

So, Arthur sighs again and grabs his phone, texts Morgana. He doesn’t know what makes him do this, what is different today that makes him grab for his phone, but it feels like it’s time. She’s right, it’s been five years. It took time to heal —but he had to. He has healed now.

 _Send me the address,_ he writes. He doesn't need it, he knows by heart where Camelot is, but both Morgana and he know that this is his way to say, _okay, I'll go tonight._

*

Entering the pub, Arthur almost feels the need to leave and go home. He sees in a flash all the moments he spent there when he was younger; the times he went there and Merlin was with him, as well as Merlin will be here tonight.

The idea of seeing Merlin again after five years makes Arthur’s hands tremble and his palms sweat. He doesn't know why he's so nervous, he's well over their relationship, he shouldn't feel so eager to see Merlin again, to pat his shoulder or shake his hand, hopefully get a brief hug— it's a dangerous road Arthur is not willing to go back to after all the pain he went through.

When he spots a group of at least six people, Arthur knows he's found his table. He takes a deep breath, adjusts his tie —he hasn’t bothered to go home and get changed and it’s better to let his friends see that he's been working late before coming here— and heads over.

As he walks, he recognizes his sister talking to Gwen and Elena, Percy, Leon and Elyan at the other side, but there's no sign of either Gwaine, Lancelot or Merlin. Arthur supposes that, working in the same residency as they do, the three of them will be coming together.

Gwen sees him first and her face lights up, alerting the rest of the group of his presence. There's a mixture of impressions and faces, some look surprised, others glad, others both. He greets them all, kisses for the ladies and handshakes and one-armed hugs to the lads. They make some room for him and as he settles down beside Leon, Arthur catches sight of Morgana's private, small smile and nod, silently telling him he's made the right decision.

They chat for a while, but none of them asks or reproaches Arthur for never having come before, and for that, Arthur is glad. He wouldn't know how to explain. He catches up quickly, hearing news from almost everyone, except from the ones he sees almost daily and Arthur offers some achievements back, receiving nods and smiles from the group.

It's not until half an hour later that Gwaine and Lancelot enter the front door and walk straight to the table. Arthur searches, practically unconsciously, for Merlin, but he's nowhere to be seen.

"Sorry, guys. It's only Lance and me tonight, Merlin couldn't make it. Night shift," Gwaine explains as soon as he's slipped into his seat beside Elena, flickering his gaze towards Arthur at the end and looking almost pleased that destiny has played them a trick.

Arthur swallows and looks away, disappointed but relieved at the same time. He doesn't know what he would have done had he seen Merlin in the flesh again. _It's probably better this way anyway,_ he can't help but think. He has no idea how he would have reacted, and he apparently isn’t ready to see Merlin again yet, if the way his body is acting is any indication.

He pastes a smile to his face for the rest of the night as the evening passes by, and as soon as the girls start to retire, so do the guys, and they farewell and part again, promising to plan another meeting soon which Arthur promises he won’t miss.

Arthur walks home with Morgana and Leon, Lancelot and Gwen a few steps ahead of them, lost in their own world, holding hands with their heads bent together.

"I'm sorry he couldn't come," Morgana says quietly beside him.

Arthur's throat tightens, but he shrugs it off, avoiding looking at either his sister or his friend. "It’s not your fault, you don't have to feel sorry."

"You know what I mean," his sister retorts. Arthur stays silent, he knows better than to deny that he was expecting to confront Merlin after those five years apart.

The spark of happy laughter makes him look up to see Gwen and Lancelot coming to a stop just when they're about to round the corner.

"We're heading this way," Gwen says softly. She reaches out a hand and pats Arthur's cheek gentle. "I'll see you on Monday."

Arthur nods, appreciating the comforting gesture, and then exchanges a look and a nod with Lancelot whilst Gwen kisses Morgana on the cheeks and bids Leon goodbye, before they disappear down the road.

That night, as Arthur tosses and turns in his bed, he promises himself that tomorrow morning he'll ring Merlin just to see how he's doing.

He doesn't.

*

Arthur lies on his back, glaring up at the ceiling with a frown, completely annoyed that he’s woken up earlier than he should have. He sighs, turns to peek at the clock and promptly wonders why the hell is he awake twenty minutes before he has to get up.

It’s been less than two weeks since the night at Camelot. Arthur wouldn’t say that he’s been having a row of sleepless nights because of the fact that he didn’t see Merlin after he expected to— he’s been sleeping well for five years in which he has never seen him, so he knows it’s only a couple of bad weeks, Arthur has had plenty of those before, everyone has.

He growls and whirls around, burying his face in the pillow and closing his eyes, trying to fall asleep again, but it just doesn’t work. He gives up after a few silent minutes, and he turns the alarm off, pulls back the heavy covers and slings his legs over the edge, placing his bare feet on the carpeted floor. He rubs a hand over his face and stands up, shuffling to the bathroom and slipping inside the shower.

Setting the dial of the shower up as hot as he can stand it, Arthur moves under the spray and lets the water fall over his body as he lets his mind wander briefly. Then he washes, scrubbing his hands over his skin sluggishly and stepping out after a few moments when the water starts to get cold. He towels himself dry and then faces the mirror, brushing the condensation off with a hands and staring at his stormy reflection, frowning.

He shaves with jerky moves, brushes his teeth and then goes back to his room and gets dressed in his favourite suit, adjusting his tie in the mirror and quickly brushing his hair with his hand as he peeks sideways at the clock on the bedside.

Grabbing his briefcase he locks the door and leaves his flat, making a brief stop at the coffee shop just on the corner from his place where he goes every day for his morning cup of coffee.

After he’s finished the coffee —and as he checks his phone for emails or messages— he can’t help but notice that the sun is missing today. Arthur hates these cloudy days in which there’s practically no sun whatsoever but it’s not raining either, hates the slight humidity in the atmosphere and the grey, sad aspect of the streets. It makes him moody and itchy, and that added to the stress of his work and the fact that his car is at the mechanic’s and he has to get the tube instead, just has Arthur feeling a bit grumpy this morning.

He gets to the station, pays for his ticket and waits for ten minutes for the tube, only to find it completely crowded. _Great,_ he thinks, just what he needs. This is why he never uses the tube. Arthur slips inside the last carriage, clutching his briefcase tightly to his hand and making a face at the smell, a mixture of sweat, cologne and too many people breathing the same air. He squeezes past the people to find a pole to hold onto, bumping shoulders with pretty much everyone and receiving some annoyed looks as though it’s his fault the tube is this full.

He asks for patience, and hopes the ride is as short as possible when he steps onto someone’s feet, distracted as he advances through the crowd. He glances down and his eyes meet a pair of ratty-looking Converse that if Arthur were to think— he would say look very familiar. He frowns a little, not wanting to think about who had a similar pair and glances up with the intention to say sorry, though as soon as he lifts his head up the apology dies on his lips.

The tube gives an unpleasant shake, and Arthur’s world shakes with it when he sees _Merlin._ Merlin of all people. Merlin standing there, just mere inches away from him and Merlin after five years.

Arthur stays there frozen on the spot, feeling his heart hammering inside his chest wildly, feeling his temples throb as he stares, with his jaw hanging open and his eyes fixed on Merlin’s— who’s staring right back at him with an expression on his face as stunned as the one Arthur must be wearing.

Merlin looks. . . He looks just the same, but yet— he looks so _different_ from the last time Arthur saw him, it strikes him. The boyish face is gone, replaced with stronger and more defined features that make him seem much older, but still with the same curly, rebel hair, the same sky blue eyes and cheekbones ,and the same fleshy mouth, only now surrounded by faint, dark stubble. And the same ears. _Oh God._

But it’s not only that. Merlin looks as if he’s finally discovered what a gym is, because he’s a lot more buff. Arthur can see his shoulders are more squared, bigger, as well as his arms, that have definitely grown broader with the years, even though the hand resting over the pole and his wrist look as thin and delicate as Arthur remembers. He’s as gorgeous as always, even impossibly more attractive now and— Arthur shouldn’t be thinking about _that._

He tries to tear his eyes away but they are glued to the man before him, glued to Merlin as if they don’t want to look at anything other than him. Arthur can’t believe they are both here, that Merlin is just so near that Arthur could reach out his hand and touch him, that if the tube jolts again Arthur could pretend to lose his balance and stumble forward into Merlin, brush against him to convince himself that this moment is real, that Merlin is real.

Arthur feels trapped somehow, though, like all the air has been knocked out of him, because after he’s been avoiding Merlin for so long _this is it,_ this is the moment. There’s no escape from it now, but Arthur realises he doesn’t want to run away anymore because it’s truly good to see Merlin after all these years, after nothing but a few mentions of his name here and there or a few forbidden memories Arthur has always shoved away.

This is the moment in which Arthur has to man up and confront the situation as it is.

“Sorry,” he mumbles stupidly, a heartbeat too late.

“For what?” Merlin replies, his eyes narrowing. Arthur shifts from one foot to the other, changes the hold on his briefcase and tries to bypass the fact that Merlin’s question sounds slightly accusing.

He knows what Merlin means; he’s not talking about Arthur stepping on his foot, he’s talking about Arthur evading him, ignoring his calls and his attempts to keep their promise and save their friendship. He’s talking about Arthur never going to Camelot, about Arthur never asking how he was doing, letting the years pass by without a word as if they were strangers, and pretending as if nothing had ever happened between them.

He’s talking about everything Arthur doesn’t want to talk about.

So when Arthur doesn’t answer, Merlin takes it up upon himself.

“It’s good to see you’re actually alive,” Merlin says. “I was concerned you'd drowned in a pile of paperwork in your office, what with you _always_ being so busy to even _call._ ” His tone is light but full of sarcasm.

Arthur shifts his gaze to the floor, ashamed. He deserves that, he acted like a total jerk.

“Well,” Merlin sighs after a pause, and Arthur glances up at him, meeting his gaze fleetingly before Merlin flicks his gaze away as if he can’t bear to look at him. “The next one is my stop, so I better go,” he explains when Arthur can’t once again find anything to say.

“Wait—” Arthur hastens to say when Merlin attempts to moves past him and away. Away of the tube and away of Arthur’s life again. Arthur doesn’t make a grab for Merlin’s arm, but he finds the courage to step to the side and block Merlin’s way, keeping a respectable distance, but keeping Merlin there, too, completely missing the glare the guy he’s just elbowed in the process shoots him.

Merlin stumbles backwards slightly, looks at Arthur in surprise.

“Maybe we could— uh, meet up for a coffee, sometime?” It comes out more like a question, hesitant. He’s too nervous, still shocked, his pulse is thumping too loudly inside of his head, irregular and uncontrolled, and making Arthur feel light-headed.

Merlin stares at him for a moment, his lips parted and his eyes fixed on Arthur’s as if trying to read him as easily as he once did. Arthur swallows, looks away from the scrutiny and waits for an answer.

“Are you sure?” Merlin says, glances around. “I mean— I’m not sure myself if that’s such a good idea. We don’t have to do this, Arthur.”

Arthur sighs, closes his eyes briefly when he hears his name coming out of Merlin’s lips. He drowns in the unique way it sounds in Merlin’s voice just for an instant, always has, even if it’s this side of strained now and not exactly like Arthur remembers it. But Arthur knows how Merlin can make his name sound like a million of different words, breathed in a whisper, in a moan, or in a cry, as he laughs full of joy or when he’s disappointed; like right now.

He knows what Merlin must think of him after he has given him the cold shoulder for the past five years, and Arthur wants to fix it. “No, I do. I’m sorry for avoiding you for so long, I’ve been immature and selfish and not very friendly, and I’m sorry for acting that way. I want to make it up to you, just one coffee, or a drink, and then we can decide if we want to keep in touch or not.” Merlin bites his lips, as though he’s torn between saying _yes_ or _no._

“We were once friends, that doesn’t have to change.”

“ _You_ changed it,” Merlin replies a bit harshly, making a few people glance at them. He shakes his head and looks down to the floor. “Sorry. But you don’t have to make anything up to me, Arthur, I—”

“I want to,” Arthur replies, quickly, feeling like it’s pretty much now or never. He wouldn’t forgive himself if, after seeing Merlin again, he let things stay as they are and didn’t try to fix his mistakes. He regrets the way he handled the break-up and doesn’t want Merlin to remember him this way after all the good things they lived together.

Merlin looks back at him, warily and reserved. “I want to,” Arthur repeats, “Please?”

Merlin thinks it over for a few seconds, looking here and there, fiddling with the zip of his jacket and then sighing. “Okay,” he mumbles.

Arthur can’t help the small smile making its way to his lips, flooding him with relief. “Good. I’ll—I’ll call you.”

Merlin nods dryly as the tube pulls into the station, and then shoulders past him and the rest of the people, walking to the door and out as soon as it opens. Arthur sighs, and as looks back at Merlin as he steps out of the tube and disappears in between the crowd, he tries to control the loud beating of his heart against his chest and the nerves bubbling inside his stomach.

It has taken him five years, but Arthur is finally making the right decision.

*

“I really can’t believe we’re doing this,” Merlin says, as soon as they have settled in the corner booth, where they have more privacy, away from the chatter of the people and the quiet, background music.

Arthur can’t believe it either. They are at some new, small pub near Arthur’s flat, a few days after Arthur’s suggestion on the tube. It still feels surreal that they are here, but Arthur is glad Merlin’s agreed to give him another chance; a chance to explain, to make things right.

It takes them a few minutes to get used to _this,_ though, them sitting together at some place after so many years without a word, it seems only normal that neither of them says anything at first. The atmosphere is awkward and heavy with regret on Arthur’s part and something like resentment on Merlin’s, but Arthur doesn’t blame him. He remembers the times when Merlin rang or left messages on Arthur’s phone a few months after the break-up, and how Arthur just could never bring himself to ring back or return the calls— how he couldn’t do it and because of that one day Merlin simply stopped calling.

Arthur remembers what they agreed, he knows he broke his promise when he rejected Merlin’s friendship for five years but he couldn’t be just only Merlin’s friend after four years of so much more, he just couldn’t do it. So Arthur is well aware that —hadn’t it been because of him— maybe— probably, Merlin and him would still be friends now.

“So—” Arthur starts, feeling like he needs to be the one to break the ice.

“I want to say first,” Merlin cuts him off, “that I get why you did what you did, “ Merlin looks up at him, “though it wasn’t very nice, but I—”

“Merlin,” Arthur says apologetically, but when Merlin holds up a hand, Arthur pauses.

"I mean, I get it okay?" Merlin continues, "I understand. We were young and innocent." He shakes his head. "I thought I'd be with you forever, that you’d always be there no matter what after we broke up, and all that shit. And you _weren’t._ ” Merlin’s eyes are a dark blue as he fixes his gaze on Arthur. “You were right the other day, we were _friends,_ and I think that if you hadn’t cut me off we could still be friends today. That’s all.” Merlin swallows and looks away.

Arthur looks at him for a moment, watching Merlin’s profile. “Are you saying that you honestly believe I could have been your _friend_?”

Merlin shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe. If we had tried.”

“No,” Arthur replies, because it’s the truth. “I couldn’t have been _only just_ your friend.”

Merlin nods, doesn’t say anything.

Arthur stares at him, grips his glass stronger. “Do you really think—”

“What I think doesn’t matter anymore, Arthur,” Merlin interrupts, “We’re not here to speak about that, but,” he pauses, plays with his glass for a second, “I’m angry at you because you _knew_ how hung up on you I was, and you— _lied_ when you agreed that we would be okay. I thought you _trusted_ me enough to tell me that you didn’t want anything to do with me after that. It was just— we were kind of— pathetic, so I get it, okay?"

Arthur frowns, partly offended that Merlin thinks their relationship pathetic of all things they were, and partly upset that Merlin has gotten it all wrong.

"That's not true," he replies, "we just— we weren't pathetic, we were _in love._ ” It comes out harsher that Arthur had intended but even if it pains him to say it he wants to call it for what it was.

“And I never lied to you, because I fooled myself thinking that we would be alright, but then I couldn’t see you or hear your voice at all, because even thinking about your name was like a _nightmare._ It was killing me." His voice breaks a little at the end and Merlin looks up at that, stares at him so piercingly Arthur wants to avert his gaze at the intensity of it, except he doesn't until Merlin's jaw twitches and he looks down at his glass with a frown, as though it hurts to remember.

Arthur can't say he doesn't share the feeling.

Merlin takes a deep breath. “Well,” he says, rubs his face, letting a short silence stretch between them. “We’re not here to talk about the past, we’re here to catch up with the present, so. . . Tell me about you.”

Arthur sighs, casts a glance around the place. “Right. . . ” He doesn’t know what to say, so many things have happened in five years; _it’s complicated._

“After uni I— it, it took me a while to adjust to my new life, you know,” he raises his hand from where it’s clasped on the glass and waves it slightly, dropping it back on the table after he’s spoken. He wants to brush away all the drama from moments ago but he’s sure they need to talk first to get rid of it. “To get a place to live on my own and start working. It took me years actually to go through everything.” He shoots a quick glance up to see Merlin listening attentively, his face a little scrunched up.

“I told my father I didn’t want to work on his company because I needed to know I could face the world for myself without his money, or his help. I wanted to feel like I was good enough to succeed because of what I could do, not for what he had left me.”

“So I started my own little project with Leon,” he explains, playing with the condensation on his glass. “We created Avalon Enterprises after a bit of struggling. It was just an idea at first and I never thought we would make it this far— I mean, we’ve achieved a lot in a short time, it’s incredible— but, we actually did it and well, I guess— well, I’ve been working there ever since.” He shrugs, looks up.

Merlin nods, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards so slightly, his eyes softer. “I’m glad you confronted your father,” he replies and Arthur remembers Merlin being there all the time when Uther gave Arthur a hard time during university, at his side, preventing him from falling.

“You know I don’t know anything about business but I’m pretty sure that what you and Leon have done is something great.” Merlin tries a smile, and even if it comes out more like a grimace, Arthur tries one of his own, too. “Morgana told me about it,” he continues, “I mean, nothing very personal or specific, you know, she just— I asked how you were doing and she mentioned it.”

Arthur swallows, processing the fact that Merlin has been asking about him. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” he replies honestly, feeling his heart beat too fast for a second.

“What about you?” Arthur asks after a moment of silence.

Merlin smiles a little, takes a deep breath and then looks at him, “I’m doing pretty good.” He pauses, looks lost in his own word for a moment. “I just love my job, you know I always wanted to do this, being able to help people, even if I’m still learning—” Arthur can already see the enthusiasm as Merlin speaks, all the fight from moments before gone, the way his twinkling blue eyes shine a little and he wriggles his hands on the table, making small movements with his long fingers and curving his lips upwards in the right moments, making his dimples show and his whole face light up. He’s so captivating like this, when he speaks, so passionate about his job, even though Arthur can’t understand most of what he’s saying or what it means, it’s simply fascinating and Arthur’s heart races unconsciously seeing that this part of Merlin hasn’t changed at all.

“—it’s beautiful,” Merlin finishes and Arthur swallows and snaps himself out of his thoughts, ashamed, focusing his attention on Merlin’s words rather than those gestures he makes with his body or the meaning behind that he still remembers all too well.

“You weren’t listening to what I was saying, were you?” Merlin asks, but he seems more amused than annoyed by it.

Arthur shakes his head slightly. “Sorry.” He glances at his beer for a moment, thinking about the first day they met and how Arthur didn’t listen to him either. He could always say that it’s because he’s not interested in medicine but both Merlin and him know that it’s not because of what Merlin’s speaking but because of _him speaking._

Merlin doesn’t blush this time, he only smiles a tiny smile and doesn’t say anything about it.

They talk for a little longer, trying not to dig into anything from the past and learning new things about one another. Arthur regrets now having missed all those meetings at the pub, having avoided Merlin for so long, and he realises how much of an idiot he’s been.

Arthur is both glad and surprised that they can still talk like this; that they are still somewhat comfortable enough to speak this carefree, and that nothing has changed in that aspect. Arthur loved many things about Merlin, and the ease to speak with him was one of them.

They have probably much more things to say or argue about, but as they agreed earlier, they’ve not come here for that tonight, and Arthur doesn’t ever want to _fight._

As the night goes on, they end up smiling through the whole conversation, even laughing genuinely here and there, especially Merlin who seems to be about to drop his head to the table any moment, leaning too much against his hand and apparently not minding that his elbow keeps giving out now and then.

"I think we should call it a night," Arthur says eventually, grabbing his coat and pushing to his feet.

"Yeah," Merlin replies. He stumbles a little when he stands up, and then places his hand on the table and chuckles slightly, closing his eyes briefly "Just hold on a second, yeah? I’m all wobbly."

Arthur looks at him and can't help but remember how much of a lightweight Merlin has always been where alcohol is concerned. He can't help but remember all those times Arthur had to literally drag Merlin to his room and tuck him inside his bed before he lay down beside him, not wanting to leave Merlin's side.

He should have told Merlin to stop drinking so much tonight.

He swallows, pushes the memories away once more and huffs a relieved sigh when Merlin manages to walk in a straight line all the way to the door and out of the pub.

As soon as the late night air brushes against his skin, Arthur wraps his coat tighter around himself and then looks at Merlin, the idiot, who hasn't bought one and is shivering inside his hoodie.

"Seriously, Merlin?" Arthur says, tugging his coat off and handing it to Merlin.

Merlin frowns at him and babbles some weak protests. Arthur just thrusts it to Merlin's chest, forcing him to stop walking, not quite daring to place it around Merlin's shoulders himself as he would have done years ago.

Merlin stares at him for a moment with a look Arthur can't quite read and then shakes his head, "Arthur, you'll freeze, you're only wearing a shirt, I've got at least four under this."

Arthur doesn't believe it because he knows Merlin. "Put it on," he wriggles it in his grasp until Merlin sighs and curls his hand around the coat, slipping his arms inside the sleeves and adjusting it to his body.

Arthur looks him up and down, and then avoids looking at him for the rest of the walk, even when Merlin stumbles against his shoulder slightly and chuckles to himself in the quietness of the night at his drunk self. Arthur thinks of getting a cab for Merlin but he doesn’t want to leave Merlin alone, so he just keeps on walking towards his flat, hoping that Merlin doesn’t ask where are they going, and doesn’t mind where Arthur is taking him.

When they get to Arthur’s building Merlin leans his back against the wall beside the door and closes his eyes, his head rolling to his side against the cold stone. Arthur’s coat is too big on him, and Arthur breath catches at the sight of him like that, reminding Arthur of all those mornings when he would wake up earlier than Merlin and would look at him whilst he slept, wearing Arthur’s clothes, so peaceful and beautiful it made Arthur’s heart ache with happiness.

Now, as Arthur looks at him with his keys stilled in his hands, he sees the same Merlin but older, still with the same beauty that caught his attention once. Arthur wants to gather Merlin into his arms, carry him up to his flat and lay him on his bed to pretend they are still together and that Merlin will wake up next to him in the morning like he did every day five years ago.

But he can’t do that because that’s only an illusion, an illusion reminding him that they are not together anymore. So instead he shoves the key into the lock and calls Merlin’s name softly until he blinks his eyes open at him dazedly and smiles a little.

“Come on,” he says, tugging at the sleeve of his coat.

Merlin steps inside, a little unsteady, and follows Arthur to the lift. Even if it’s a third floor flat and Arthur always takes the stairs, he doesn’t want to force Merlin to walk when he’s this drunk. So he guides Merlin inside the lift and lets him lean his head against his shoulder, trying to ignore the warmth of Merlin’s breath ghosting over his neck and the tickling of Merlin’s hair against his jaw.

He startles a little when Merlin suddenly brings an unexpected hand to Arthur’s shoulder and then caresses the back of Arthur’s neck, threading his fingers at the hair falling over his nape, so softly that Arthur could choose to pretend it’s only in his mind.

“God, I’ve missed your blond hair,” Merlin whispers, a little bit slurred, and probably unwittingly.

Arthur decides it’s the alcohol speaking and he doesn’t pay it much heed, trying to ignore the way he feels his heart thump loudly in response to Merlin’s words. He gazes down to the mop of black hair as the lift comes to a stop. Arthur wraps his arm around Merlin’s middle, barely touching, and holds him upright whilst he opens the door.

As soon as they are inside his flat, Arthur kicks the door shut quickly, drops the keys in the bowl by the door and leads Merlin to his bedroom.

Arthur watches as Merlin looks around the flat through lidded eyes— he has probably guessed already that he’s not at his place but he doesn’t say anything and lets Arthur walk him to the room.

Arthur lays Merlin on the bed carefully, not missing the way Merlin’s hand slides down from his shoulder and lingers on his arm, and then goes to the kitchen to fetch some painkillers and a glass of water. When he gets back to his room Merlin is already fast asleep, lying on his stomach and with his face buried in the pillow, hugging it with an arm draped over it, and Arthur’s coat still covering his body.

Arthur stares at him for a moment and then rubs his face tiredly and sighs, trying to stop his mind from getting into thinking again. He changes into his pyjamas quickly and then goes back to Merlin and takes his trainers off and gets his own coat off Merlin’s body gently, so he won’t wake him up. Merlin squirms a little and then opens his eyes, looks straight into Arthur’s.

“Arthur,” he murmurs, his voice low and muffled by the pillow.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replies after a heartbeat, resisting the urge to brush Merlin’s fringe out of his eyes. “I’m sorry for ignoring you for five years.” The apology comes out of his lips before he even realises he’s needed to say so— just a mere whisper.

Merlin stares at him for a moment, bleary-eyed, “Me too.”

Arthur nods. “Sleep,” he says, turning away and leaving the room before he can do something stupid that he will regret in the morning.

He can’t bear the thought of helping Merlin out of his clothes as if they were mates, tuck him into bed as he used to. No matter how connected Arthur has felt tonight at the pub with Merlin it doesn’t mean anything is alright between them again, no matter that it feels that way. After five years one night is just not enough to make things go back to something similar to what they used to be, Arthur knows.

So he just leaves Merlin to it, and falls down on the sofa, stares up at the ceiling for a long time —swearing he can hear Merlin’s soft breathing coming from his room— until he can stop thinking enough to fall asleep.

*

The morning after is tense again, and Arthur can't say he hadn't counted on it. Yesterday felt too good to last.

It hadn’t been planned for Merlin to end up at Arthur’s place, after all, so it’s only normal that Merlin’s reaction now is that of shock at waking up in Arthur’s flat. Arthur can't blame him for not being entirely pleased, but given Merlin’s state last night Arthur thought it just seemed like the best option.

Merlin wakes a few long minutes after Arthur does, when something suspiciously sounding like the alarm of Merlin’s mobile goes off. It’s later than usual for a Saturday —Arthur is an early person, both during the week and weekends— but then again, he doesn't normally go out very often.

He’s surprised to see Merlin have to go to work now —not because he’s working on a Saturday and so early, because Arthur guesses that in Merlin’s job it’s not so unusual— but because if Arthur had known Merlin would be waking up this early, he would have suggested another date for their night out.

Merlin is quick to leave the flat, slightly avoiding Arthur’s gaze and fussing with his clothes and his hair, complaining about the time, his headache and his appearance and refusing to use Arthur’s shower, saying that he’d stop by his flat and change there before heading off to the hospital. Arthur tries not to give much thought to it, really, Merlin was in a hurry to go— that's all.

And yet, Arthur can’t help feeling doubtful about where they stand right now. Sure they are not pretending the other doesn’t exist anymore as they have been doing for five years, and even if last night went well, Arthur doesn’t know what is going to happen next between them. They fixed their issues yesterday night, but there's still probably a way to go before building a solid friendship again.

Arthur is saved from making the first move when hours later he receives a text from Merlin apologizing about rushing out like that this morning, and as soon as Arthur’s uneasiness had come, it’s gone when he concludes they are alright— as alright as they can be so soon, at least.

After an excessive amount of messages during the weekend in between some paperwork here and there, Arthur gets the address of the hospital where Merlin works and decides to pay him a visit.

Approaching the nurse’s station slowly, Arthur crosses the room and comes to stand by the closer, avaliable desk. The brunette sitting at the other end flashes him a shy smile and offers her assistance, making Arthur feel foolish for being here to visit a worker instead of coming as a patient. She seems lovely so Arthur asks politely for Merlin and discovers that he’s occupied with some patient or other. The nurse —Freya, Arthur reads on her ID card— offers him to have a seat in the waiting room until Merlin comes out and sees if he can spare a moment. Arthur does, and just as he starts to reconsider whether he should leave, Merlin comes walking down the corridor accompanied by a little girl with a flushed face and a lollipop— and a woman that Arthur supposed must be her mother.

Arthur watches Merlin exchanging a few words with the woman briefly and then pat the girl’s head and couches down to whisper something to her, too, before he waves his goodbyes to the girl and moves towards the desk with a smile.

He waits a few more moments before he decides to walk over. Merlin glances straight at him from over his shoulder before Arthur reaches them when Freya gestures towards Arthur, and Merlin catches his eye and smiles hesitantly.

“Hey,” Arthur says, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he stops right in front of Merlin.

“Is everything okay?” Merlin asks, looking him up and down as if searching for any sign of illness.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he smiles reassuringly. “I just came to see you.”

Merlin’s face slowly lights up in a blinding smile, dimples and all. “My lunch break is in five,” he says, leaning against the desk. “If you don’t mind waiting, maybe we could grab something to eat.”

“I’ll wait,” Arthur replies, nodding his head once as a smile edges at his mouth.

Merlin only grins at him in response, staring at him for a moment before he scratches his nape and turns to Freya, grabbing the offered folder and turning on his heels. He tosses Arthur another shy smile over his shoulder before he disappears down the corridor.

*

Over the next few months, as the cold grows in strength, the leaves falls from the trees and the snow starts to paint the streets white— things change.

It’s minimal at first, just some meetings now and then, for coffee sometimes when both their schedules say free, to see what’s going on in each other’s life these days, a walk across the park brushing shoulders, or a couple of phone calls whilst Arthur is bored at work or Merlin has a small break. It’s nice, falling into each other’s routine, again, talking about nothing special but sharing pieces of the day as though it should be that way. Arthur has missed it, having someone _—a guy—_ someone he trusts enough to let them enter his life, not only his bed.

Arthur isn’t surprised that _that someone_ is Merlin —even if their relationship still isn’t close to all it used to be— Merlin is easy-going and always genuine; he’s the perfect company and just _gets_ Arthur.

That’s why they have reached a point in which, within seven weeks, Arthur is merging into Merlin’s life so much he finds himself at the door of Merlin’s flat, holding a bag of take-away, ready to spend the evening with him, just sitting in the sofa and watching movies like old mates. 

They have an history together and they know some stuff about one another that makes the awkwardness in their encounters non-existent, so it doesn’t feel like a big step to just ring the bell and let himself in when Merlin grins at him and tells him to make himself at home, because Merlin —in some odd, distant way— still feels like home for Arthur.

They act relaxed around each other, strangely so, and it’s kind of worrying when Arthur thinks of it. Arthur is only human after all, and some things are still there after the years, like his attraction towards Merlin. There’s no point in denying it; Arthur can’t fight it, can’t turn it off, and it certainly isn’t helping to keep things light between them in some situations.

All those little touches —here and there— on the arm, a brush of hands, a lingering goodbye pat on the shoulder —and those little things Merlin does, like the way he laughs or the glint in his eyes sometimes as he smiles at Arthur’s jokes —bashfully but kind of mischievous in a way— are driving Arthur completely nuts and awakening past emotions Arthur isn't prepared to deal with. It’s easier to ignore them most of the time— they probably don’t mean anything anyway— but there are moments, quiet, small moments, when Arthur allows himself to flirt back.

Because it’s easy and it isn’t going to change anything, after all. Or that’s what Arthur tells himself.

*

 _‘Dinner tonight?’_ Arthur sends.

Not a few seconds later he receives a response. _‘Sorry, can’t. Night shift.’_

Arthur frowns, drumming his finger against the side of his mobile before an idea occurs to him and, before he knows it, he’s already out of his flat and on his way heading towards the hospital.

Freya lets him go inside after a bit of struggling when Arthur tells her he’s come to surprise Merlin. He wanders through the corridors like Freya indicated but the place is huge and all the walls look all the same, so Arthur ends up finding Merlin by the sound of his laughter echoing along the corridors.

He stands by the ajar door where Merlin’s laughter has come from. He assumes he can’t just walk inside a patient’s room without being a family member, but Gwaine’s voice makes Arthur stop as he’s about to knock and let Merlin know of his presence.

“I really have to go to check on Alice,” Merlin says.

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me for her,” Gwaine’s voice is teasing, high-pitched.

“I am,” Merlin replies, in that tone that implies he’s grinning.

Something settles in Arthur stomach, something heavy and uncomfortable. He can’t see what’s going on inside that room, but Arthur doesn’t need eyes to know that Gwaine is flirting. It bothers him, but he can’t do anything. That feeling inside him turns even more unpleasant when he hears Gwaine’s soft _‘Merlin, wait’_ , and a few rustling noises going on. Then there’s silence for a moment and Arthur frowns, his hand already reaching for the door unconsciously, but then he listens again, and freezes at the recognizable sound of _kissing._ The obscene sound of lips over lips and intakes of breath that have Arthur’s heart sinking and his hopes —if he admits to himself he had any— shattering.

Arthur swallows, looks away from the wooden door, and walks away. 

He’s in such a hurry to get out of there that he misses Freya’s questioning _‘how did it go?’_ and doesn’t even notice when he bumps into someone in his way out, doesn’t even apologize. He just walks away, straight to the nearest pub to get properly plastered and forget about Merlin, about Gwaine and about exes; about the jealousy and heartache he most definitely isn’t feeling.

He enters the first place he finds a few streets away from the hospital, not caring that his flat is in the opposite direction, only wanting a few drinks to clear his mind and push all thoughts of Merlin away. He approaches the bar and sits down on an empty stool, orders the strongest drink he can come up with and glares at the bartender when the guy tries to make conversation, saying something that Arthur really isn’t interested in listening to.

He plays with the ring on his index finger distractedly as he waits to be served, tries to erase the pang inside his chest; the rage growing up inside of him whilst he tells himself it doesn’t make any sense to feel this way, as though Merlin had disappointed and betrayed him. Arthur is so wrapped up in his thoughts that the first four drinks are quickly drowned and settle warmly in his stomach, making everything fluffier around the edges just like Arthur wanted.

If Merlin can have fun with other people, so can Arthur. In fact, that’s what he should do; that’s exactly what he needs to get Merlin out of his head. There’s plenty of other guys in the pub, and Arthur has been sleeping around with lots of blokes during the past five years. There’s no reason to stop doing so now. He can have whoever he wants and he wants someone _now._

Taking a last, small sip, Arthur flickers his eyes around the room, searching for someone. His gaze falls upon some bloke who’s making his way to the bar. Arthur takes in his dark hair and blue eyes and lets himself believe it doesn’t mean anything, that there’s lots of people with dark hair and bright eyes, that it’s just a coincidence his gaze has fallen upon him.

The guy catches his eye and smiles, walking over to Arthur and leaning against the bar. “Hey there,” he says, looking Arthur up and down, “can I buy you a drink?”

Arthur moves closer to his ear, whispers, “Let’s go somewhere more private instead?”

The guy pulls away and hesitates for a moment but then nods his head towards some door at the other side of the room. Arthur notices the bloke is too tanned, the shade of blue of his eyes it’s too clear and his hair is too short, but the guy will do anyway. 

Arthur needs this.

Following the bloke to the backroom, Arthur barely waits, pinning him to the wall as soon as the door has closed behind them and getting his hands on him. The guy attempts to kiss him on the lips but Arthur ducks away and attaches his mouth to the guy’s neck instead, tilting his head to the side and launching at the bloke’s throat. He kisses it eagerly, but everything feels different than it should be: the taste, the shape, the texture of the skin— it’s not like Arthur was expecting it to be.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks, grinding his hips against the guy’s.

The bloke breathes a _yeah,_ and starts unbuttoning Arthur’s jeans, gets his hand inside and starts stroking Arthur to full hardness. It feels good, it always feels good having someone else’s hand touching you instead of yours doing all the work. After months of only quick wanks in the shower and late at night before going to bed, it feels slightly better than good.

He reciprocates and opens the guy’s jeans, takes him into his hand, squeezing his cock up and down and hearing the guy groan near his ear. He sets a quick rhythm for a moment, stroking fast, and then pulls away when the bloke passes him a condom, sliding it on Arthur’s cock right before he sends Arthur a sly glance and drops to his knees.

Arthur sighs and shifts until his back is against the wall. The bloke pushes Arthur’s jeans further down and then gets his hand on the base of Arthur’s cock and starts licking the head into his mouth. Arthur closes his eyes, tries to leave his mind blank and enjoy, but it keeps drifting to the kiss, drifting to Merlin, making Arthur exhale a small moan.

He blinks his eyes open to brush Merlin away —because that’s supposed to be the point of _this_ — looks down to see the guy working his hand and his mouth of him, watches in time to see him look up at him with darker eyes than before— and Arthur has to avert his gaze, look away because that blue is almost the same as Merlin’s, and his mind floods again with images of Merlin, Merlin, _Merlin._

He takes a deep breath and attempts to let go. Even though Merlin never sucked his cock like that, Arthur tries to pretend, closes his eyes and fists the tufts of black hair —too soft to be Merlin’s— and lets his mind wander.

The guy’s lips are too raspy and chapped and his hands not rough enough, but Arthur tries, gives in to the pleasure building in his belly and his balls, thinking about lazy summer afternoons with Merlin in his lake house, full of sticky sex. Thinking about Merlin blowing him over his father’s desk, or near the swimming pool, hidden in Arthur’s room or outside behind a few bushes, remembering Merlin’s hands and fingers on him, those lips stretched wide around his cock like right now, moving over him, making him groan and feel ghosty touches over secret places.

He tries to roll his hips forward, to get more friction yet, because it’s not enough anymore, but the guy holds him at bay and doesn’t allow Arthur to fuck his mouth as he needs. Arthur grunts in response, exasperated and annoyed as he tugs at the bloke’s hair none too-gently, and only then the guy gives in and drops his hand from Arthur’s prick, leaving only his mouth to please him and leaving Arthur to thrust into it freely.

Arthur starts to rock his hips hard and fast because this was supposed to be something to avoid thinking of Merlin and instead here he is, letting a guy with dark hair and blue eyes suck his cock, pretending he is whom Arthur needs him to be. He fucks the guy’s mouth harder as he remembers the nasty noises of the kiss, when his mind imagines Merlin’s hands tangled into Gwaine’s hair as they plunder each other’s mouths, Gwaine touching Merlin everywhere that Arthur touched— making Arthur growl and moan, just thrusting into the guy’s mouth until the bloke’s gagging and pulling back, giving Arthur an odd, annoyed look and going back to work on Arthur on his own way with harsher moves.

Arthur curses inwardly for being this weak and wanting Merlin this way again—for wanting him this much, and doesn’t hold back any longer, letting his orgasm take in and his cock pulse until it’s over and his temples stop throbbing and his mind stops murmuring Merlin’s name over and over.

He sighs, glances down at the bloke.

“Who’s Merlin?” the guy asks as he pulls back. He stands up and tosses a smirk at Arthur, clearly amused as he tucks himself back inside his pants. Arthur would frown at the bloke but he’s taken aback for a moment, puzzled that the guy knows who Arthur’s been thinking about.

“No one,” Arthur replies sharply, not wanting to speak about Merlin with this guy, turning around to give his back to the bloke and doing his zip up quickly.

“You just moaned his name as you came, he’s clearly someone,” the guy insists and Arthur feels the urge to punch him to make him shut up. Now that he doesn’t have Arthur’s cock shoved deep down in his throat, Arthur thinks he’s chosen the wrong guy for a quick fumble.

He doesn’t reply anything whilst he works on his belt unhurriedly, hoping the bloke gets the hint, and just fucks off and leaves Arthur alone to deal with his problems and judge by himself who Merlin is for him, and what does this whole situation mean.

“Can I get your number?” the guy asks, moving closer and placing a hand on Arthur’s lower back.

Arthur clenches his jaw and turns around, letting the hand slip off him. “No,” he replies without heat, and now the bloke does look slightly offended as he holds both hands up in the air in front of his chest.

“Alright, dude. I’ll just go if you want me to, no need to be rude.” He gives Arthur a last once-over and disappears out of the door with a frown, muttering something under his breath and leaving Arthur finally in peace.

Arthur leans against the wall and closes his eyes, huffing loudly as the events start to sink in. He then rubs his face with his hands tiredly, breathes in deeply and tries to get just a little bit more sober before he gets out of the pub and on his way to his flat. Now that the guy is gone and the anger and need to get off has passed, Arthur is left feeling emptier than before, feeling his stomach clenching uncomfortably and his body sweating and prickling in the most inconvenient places.

Arthur thinks how ridiculous all of this is. He doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone, but he can’t even prove to himself that he isn’t hurt or interested in Merlin, because he is. And this may have been one of the most pleasurable hooks-up he’s had in a while —though he knows very well the only reason why is because his mind was completely elsewhere, taking him where he wanted, and allowing Arthur to imagine what he desired— but as Arthur heads back home, he finds that, no matter who the bloke was, or the way he looked like, the whole fling has also been unsatisfying altogether and definitely not worth it because it simply wasn’t _Merlin._

*

“—have the reports?” Morgana’s voice cuts through his thoughts, pulling him away from his daze.

“Sorry?” Arthur says as he clears his throat, leaning forwards on his desk and looking down to the open folder.

“There’s something on your mind, you’ve got that face again. . .” She eyes him curiously, closes the folder. “Alright, out with it, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just zoned out,” he explains, “What were you saying?” Arthur drags the folder across the desk and opens it again, looking at its contents. After a bit of rustling and a quick peek to the documents on his part, and silence from Morgana’s, he decides to glance up to see her sister studying him through narrowed eyes.

Arthur tries to put on a façade, but Morgana seems to notice the look on Arthur’s face or the hard set of his jaw anyway, because her own expression changes.

“No,” she says, looking at him wide eyes. “Not again, Arthur.” She doesn’t have to say more to let Arthur know that she has figured him out.

“You’re starting to fall for him again,” she states, her face pinched in something like sympathy and astonishment and something else Arthur can’t quite read.

“Arthur. . .”

“No, it’s not—” Arthur replies after a moment, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose while the fingertips of his other hand massage his temples for a moment. “I’m not _starting_ to fall in love with him again, I— already am,” he explains, feeling the need to _speak out,_ to say it to _someone._

"I think I never _stopped_ loving him, Morgana," Arthur opens his eyes. His sister looks even more stunned if possible. "I never stopped loving him because when we ended our relationship— we didn't break things up because he had cheated on me nor because I had gotten bored of him, we broke up because we were going separate ways, we were going to be apart and we didn't want a long-distance relationship." He doesn't know when he had started to raise his voice but he has at some point.

“It was a stupid reason, and I guess we scared of the future, we were afraid to be apart for so long so we thought it would be better to just leave it there— but it turns out that it _wasn’t,_ I’m just realising we were both foolish,” he continues, barely noticing Morgana’s look. He just needs to get it out of his chest, out of his system.

"I never _stopped_ loving him because he never gave me any reason to do so and he certainly isn’t now," he says, "That's why I didn't want to go to the fucking meetings, that's why I never went because I knew that if I saw him again, that if I started to spend time with him again, _this_ could happen." He stands up abruptly, turning his back on his sister and staring out the window, inhaling a lungful of air.

The silence that follows is long enough for Arthur to pick up on the pace of the rapid rhythm of the beating of his heart, pounding like mad against his chest, against his temples, to feel the blood rushing through his fisted hands crossed over his chest.

“I thought you were over him,” Morgana’s voice breaks the silence after a long beat, her voice low and gentle, like Arthur isn’t used to hearing. The chair cracks as she stands, and her high-heels click on the floor as she walks towards him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently.

Arthur avoids her gaze, but he can see from the corner of his eye that she’s looking at him earnestly, causing Arthur to shift uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. They don’t do this—they never do _earnest._

Arthur sighs. “I was— I am, I. . . That I’m over him doesn’t mean I can’t still love him, in some sort of way. . .” He trails off. Morgana’s silence speaks for itself, the almost imperceptible twist of her features tells Arthur that she doesn’t have the same opinion. And now Arthur is starting to doubt if that’s even possible himself.

“I know it’s over, alright? And know it sounds stupid but— you know how many other times I’ve tried dating other people. It just never works. Except for Merlin.” He shakes his head.

“You need to tell him,” she says quietly.

“No,” Arthur replies immediately, snapping his head around and turning back towards her. “No, Morgana, I can’t. Merlin _can’t_ know.”

She frowns, “But, why not, Arthur? He might feel the same way about you, I’m sure he does—”

“He doesn’t, okay? He’s— he doesn’t.” Arthur shakes his head. “I saw him and Gwaine kissing the other day, and just think of how many other times it must’ve happened before in those five years. Nothing has changed since I’m back in his life, he doesn’t feel anything for me anymore, and that’s the way it should be for me, too.”

Morgana doesn’t reply for a moment, then shakes her head. “It might not mean anything, Arthur, you have to speak with him, you can’t keep quiet about something like this. Merlin and Gwaine have spent a lot of time together these past years but they are not—”

“Leave it,” Arthur snaps. “Leave me. This conversation is over.” He fixes his gaze on her, harsh. He doesn’t need her pity; he can deal with rejection alone.

“Arthur—”

“Please, go.”

She holds Arthur’s gaze for a beat, shakes her head and turns on her heels, tossing him a last disappointed glance as she strides out of the office.

*

Three days later, Arthur hasn’t spoken to Merlin yet. He hasn’t contacted him and Merlin seems to be too busy to make a call, too. He doesn’t want to face either Merlin or Morgana yet, each of them for different reasons.

Arthur only left the office half an hour ago. He knows that he must look like a grumpy and lonely businessman, staying home on a Friday evening and watching crappy telly like a bored forty-something man who doesn’t have anything better to do. He hasn’t even bothered to change clothes yet, just lying on the sofa with a beer, letting the night tick by.

That’s why when the doorbell rings a while later, Arthur is taken aback. He is pretty sure he hasn’t made any plans with Leon, or he doesn’t have an appointment with Merlin he just forgot about.

He goes to open the door, and when he finds Merlin at the other side, he’s barely successful at hiding his surprise.

“Can I come in?” Merlin asks quietly. His voice sounds serious and Arthur can’t help but notice that his face doesn’t show any hint of a smile.

Arthur swallows, nods, and moves aside to let him in.

They walk silently into the living room and then stand there awkwardly, unmoving. Normally Arthur would motion for Merlin to sit or he would do it without Arthur having to tell him to, but today, Merlin seems like he doesn’t want to make himself comfortable, keeping his hands buried in his jeans pockets, and not taking his jacket off, as if he’s planning on leaving soon.

“I talked to Morgana.” It’s the first thing either of them says and Arthur’s whole world trembles when those words leave Merlin’s mouth.

“What?” he breathes, eyes gone wide and hands balled up at his sides defensively, completely stunned that his sister has dared to betray his trust. The conversation between Arthur and Morgana in Arthur's office had been private. That was the most Arthur had ever opened up to his sister; it was not something she should have shared with anyone, especially not with Merlin. That is Arthur’s secret to tell, something between Merlin and him.

Merlin seems to pick up on the rage bubbling in Arthur’s expression and his own softens a bit. “I sorry I haven’t called, but I had to sort myself out,” Merlin continues and Arthur frowns because he’s pretty sure he’s the only one who needed to do that, not Merlin.

“She told me about you seeing Gwaine and me. . .” he finally explains and Arthur feels himself able to breathe properly again, feels his heartbeat slow down.

“I know what you must be thinking about us, but— it has never happened before. I don’t know about Gwaine, but it didn’t mean anything for me. It’s not him I have feelings for—I don’t want anything from him beyond friendship, Arthur.” Merlin looks up at him from under thick lashes, warily. "Never have." He sighs. “There are a lot of things that have changed through the years but. . .” Merlin takes a breath and takes his hands out of his pockets slowly. Then he ducks his head down, as though he’s deciding whether to speak or not and lifts it up again to meet Arthur’s gaze. “There’s— this _one_ thing that hasn’t changed for me. I know it now.”

Arthur lets a moment pass by as the relief washes over him at the news, then asks, cautious, “And what is that?”

His heart skips a beat when Merlin fixes his dark eyes on his, but when he flicks his gaze down to Arthur’s lips, blinks at them and glances up again to his eyes; that’s answer enough. Arthur might be wrong, misunderstanding Merlin’s signals, or maybe not, but Arthur wants it, he needs something to happen, and that simple gesture and those words from Merlin seem all the indication Arthur needs to move things to another level between them. Feeling his stomach tingle and his pulse race, Arthur decides to risk it.

He steps forward and, slanting his mouth softly over Merlin’s, closes the small gap between them, coaxing Merlin’s lips apart slightly. The kiss is hesitant at first, just a brush of lips. Arthur waits, holds still there against Merlin’s lips, until Merlin responds, bringing his hand to the side of Arthur’s neck and opening his mouth much wider, letting Arthur in and confirming that he wants it, too.

The kiss becomes fierce within seconds, the sparks of passion they once shared flaming again surprisingly quickly. The moment is fragile and even if Arthur wants to stop, just for a moment to ask if this is okay, if this is what Merlin wants, too, his hands fly to Merlin’s body of their own accord and he grips Merlin’s side, his waist; he yanks Merlin’s jacket off and drops it to the floor. He brings him closer until Merlin pants and shoves Arthur backwards, breaking the kiss. Arthur falls down on the sofa, sprawled at an awkward angle, but he doesn’t mind. He shifts, and Merlin straddles Arthur’s lap in one swift movement, bracketing Arthurs thighs between his and slamming their hips together.

The feeling of it is familiar but new, Merlin’s body is the same and yet different under Arthur’s palms, his weight real and solid, heavier that Arthur’s memories allow him to remember. Merlin’s shoulders are so much broader, his thighs stronger, and Merlin’s kisses are a little bit more aggressive, though that might be just the intensity of the moment.

Merlin thrusts his hips forward against Arthur’s, the grip of his hand on Arthur’s hair tightening and his hot breath ghosting over Arthur’s mouth. “Come on, Arthur,” he whispers.

“Are you sure?” he asks before all rational thoughts drift from his mind completely.

“Yeah, this is all I want,” Merlin replies, _“You.”_

And well, Arthur doesn’t need to be told twice because this is what he wants, too, after all, and he feels like he physically needs Merlin right now; they can sort the rest out later.

So Arthur pushes to his feet, too, and shows Merlin to his room without hesitation. Merlin doesn’t waste any time in kicking his Converse off and pulling his jumper up over his head as soon as they are standing beside the bed, not taking his eyes off Arthur’s.

Then he starts unbuttoning Arthur’s shirt, their laboured breaths the only sounds in the room, the quiet telly Arthur left on is a distant sound in the background.

Merlin slides the shirt off Arthur’s chest and down his shoulders slowly until it falls to the floor soundlessly. He eyes Arthur’s body in the poor blue afternoon light creeping through the closed curtains, looking at him through narrowed eyes as if he’s trying to remember if it’s still the same it was, as if he’s committing it to memory as it is now. Then, Merlin reaches out his hands and skates his fingers across the muscles in Arthur’s chest and stomach and Arthur can’t hold back the shaky breath that escapes his mouth when Merlin touches his thumb over his nipple.

Merlin flicks his gaze up to meet his with a smile and kisses him, taking a step closer and pressing his body flush up against Arthur’s until they are joined everywhere. Arthur brings his hands up to Merlin’s shoulders, moving them all along the new muscles, the long expanse of his back and over the soft skin he’s missed so much but hadn’t really realised until now. Arthur licks into Merlin’s mouth slowly, running his tongue over the roof of Merlin’s mouth and inside as he lets his hands wander over Merlin’s back until they settle just above the waistband of his jeans, over the dip of the small of his back.

Merlin breaks the kiss to breathe and looks down between their bodies, placing his own hands over the zip of Arthur’s jeans. He rubs his hand there over Arthur’s crotch and Arthur bites his lips to fight back the moan about to get away past his lips. It’s never been like this between them, so slow and deliberate, with both of them contemplating each other. They had laid in bed together just looking at each other or touching everywhere sluggishly and tenderly more times that Arthur can remember, until Arthur learnt all the freckles, dips and hollows of Merlin’s body, until he knew it as well as the back of his own hand. And yet, they never did this: just standing there in the dark, touching and not seeing anything, re-learning each other’s body for the second time, without words.

It feels incredibly intimate and significant, scary after all those years, as if Merlin is worshipping his bod. It sends small shivers down Arthur’s spine. The idea of them having this now after so much time, after Arthur thought he’d never feel it again, makes his chest flood with joy because this is the thing he desires the most.

Merlin’s fingers work on the button of Arthur’s jeans unhurriedly until it pops free, then he shoots Arthur a quick glance from under his lashes just before he slips the zip down with a stirring sound that echoes all over the room. He doesn’t push them down until he has undone his own, as if he’s trying to undress them both equally slowly, showing the same flesh with each piece of clothing he strips them of.

Arthur allows Merlin do whatever he wants with him, watches him work on him, paralyzed with his arms limp at his sides, enjoying even the tiniest detail. Every touch feels like too much; it tingles hot, like the way Merlin’s wrist brushes against Arthur’s hard cock inside his briefs or the way his bare toes touch Arthur's slightly. It’s small but intoxicating.

When they are standing only in their underwear, Merlin presses his palm against Arthur’s chest and urges him to lay down on the bed, so Arthur complies. Merlin crawls on top of him and kisses him open-mouthed and long, their cocks clasped together between their bellies, their legs entwined in a mess of limbs as they both grind their hips against one another with urgency but not so much as to end this too soon.

“I’ve missed this,” Merlin breathes hotly against his mouth, letting out a small gasp when their cocks slid together. “Missed you.”

Arthur tugs Merlin’s briefs down with a hand over his arse, panting against Merlin’s mouth at Merlin’s words. “Me too,” he replies, unable to resist, tightening his hold on Merlin’s back for fear he’ll disappear any moment if Arthur lets him move too far away. He clutches at Merlin’s arse possessively for a moment, driving their hips together over and over to set a rhythm, and craning his neck to the side as Merlin sucks kisses at his shoulder whilst he pulls Arthur’s own briefs down past his hips with one clumsy hand that has Arthur smiling.

Merlin gets on his knees and gets rid of his briefs, yanking Arthur’s off, too, and discarding the last barrier separating their skin. Arthur’s eyes fall down to Merlin’s cock and he takes a good look at it after all those years, still as large and pretty as it always was. He pushes upright into a sitting position to kiss Merlin, mumbling some nonsense into his lips and gripping his tousled hair in his hand, sneaking the other between their bodies to touch Merlin for the first time, eliciting an unexpected moan out of Merlin’s lips as he breaks the kiss, a moan whispered against Arthur’s temple.

Arthur flips them around and lays Merlin down, settles himself between Merlin’s legs and looks down at him for a moment, watching Merlin’s chest heave up and down and the flush spread over his cheeks and neck. He kisses it away, kisses the side of Merlin’s face and behind his ear over that spot that always had Merlin shuffling his feet over the mattress and breathing too hard, kisses the tendons on his neck, just right over his mad pulse point, and downwards on his collarbone. Teeth and tongue graze over the bones, trails kisses along his chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue over his navel before he looks up at him to see an open-mouthed Merlin staring right back at him with hungry, glassy eyes.

Arthur’s heart leaps, leaps so hard it hurts, at the sight of Merlin under his hands like this, again, so affected by Arthur’s caresses and touches. Arthur hates that he has missed this for five years, that he lost this when it was _his,_ and now he knows he’s not willing to let it go, let _Merlin go._

He strokes Merlin’s cock with his hand the way Merlin always liked it, gives it a slow tug and then takes him into his mouth and loses himself to it, closing his eyes and savouring the feeling of Merlin again, tasting still the same. Arthur bobs his head slowly, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue over the length teasingly, then moves away to breathe against the head and sucks it back into his mouth, swallowing and humming to let Merlin know how good he feels.

Merlin pants above him non-stop, raking his fingers through Arthur’s head and burying them in the strands of blond hair, holding and keeping him there. Arthur puts all his effort into making Merlin feel good, pulling out just to get some air and lick his lips, to look up at Merlin and watch him breathing through his mouth with his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his eyelashes fluttering and his throat working.

Arthur kisses Merlin’s hip, licks at the bone there and then crawls up to kiss Merlin on the mouth, asking what does he want against his lips, telling him how much he wants him, how gorgeous he is, because he can’t seem to stop and Arthur needs to say it all. He reaches out to the nightstand and then thrusts a condom and lube against Merlin’s hand but Merlin only shakes his head no and shoves them back into Arthur’s hands, letting his legs fall open a little.

Arthur never got to decide what he loved more: the feeling of being inside Merlin or having Merlin inside of him. That sheepish gesture gets straight to Arthur’s heart, making it beat a little bit too hard and too quick, making his blood flow all over him and his whole body buzz with longing and craving.

He goes slow, opens Merlin’s legs wider and works on him with care and subtlety, giving as much pleasure as he can and ignoring his own throbbing cock demanding attention. He opens Merlin with gentle fingers —slowly because they have all the time in the world— and searches for the place that has Merlin’s back arching. Arthur pumps his fingers in and out, hearing Merlin pant and whisper Arthur’s name over and over as if it’s the only word he can remember.

He kisses Merlin’s knee when he knows he’s stretched enough and Arthur can’t wait anymore, places a few pecks on the inside of his thigh, over his calf and his ankle, making Merlin laugh. Arthur smiles and crawls back up to kiss him on the lips once before he pulls away and lets Merlin roll the condom on his cock. The touch of his fingertips on him is almost enough to make Arthur come undone here and now, so much that he has to grip his cock for a moment to stop himself from coming embarrassingly soon.

Then he kneels in between Merlin’s legs and guides himself slowly inside, running his free hand over Merlin’s thigh and feeling Merlin’s clinging at his middle and letting out a loud breath as he does so. It’s just easy from then on and Arthur stays unmoving for a heartbeat, enjoying the tight heat of Merlin’s body surrounding him and looking into his dark eyes. Merlin lick his lips and tugs him down until Arthur is covering his body completely and Merlin can hook his calves over the back of Arthur’s thigh and wrap his arms around his back and his shoulders.

He drives into Merlin in one smooth motion first, giving them time to adjust, until Merlin demands more, bucking his own hips to make Arthur slide inside of him deeper and clinging to Arthur’s whole body with every limb. He places kisses here and there and brings his hands to Arthur’s arse when he wants it harder, not needing to ask because Arthur remembers and understands what Merlin wants and when.

So Arthur does, picks up a faster pace and snaps his hips into Merlin’s harder, moving an arm up to rest an elbow next to Merlin’s head to grasp a fistful of the sheets as he begins to thrust against him harder, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and sharing hot breaths and wild kisses that are mostly tongue and teeth, whilst Arthur lets his body move of its own accord, allowing himself to get carried away and drinking in everything, every detail of the moment they are sharing.

He lowers his head to the crook of Merlin’s neck, breathing him in, the scent of him— unmistakable Merlin, nuzzles his nose along the line of Merlin’s ear and presses his lips to the side of his jaw, biting slightly and feeling Merlin’s nails digging into his shoulder blades softly and a loud gasp blow against Arthur’s cheek when Arthur hits the right spot inside him with a specially hard thrust, so hard their heads almost bang against the headboard.

It’s over soon, too soon, and Arthur’s orgasm blooms into him so hard he has to squeeze his eyes shut and stifle his moans against Merlin’s mouth, groaning into the kisses he gives and receives, sloppy and wet, rocking into Merlin a few more times uncontrollably before stilling, dragging his hand down between their bodies to stroke Merlin’s cock, and jerk him off quickly in a few strokes, painting their chests in white strips of come as Merlin’s nails dig into his back again and his harsh breathing falls right against Arthur’s ear.

Arthur slides off Merlin after a heartbeat, dropping the condom to the floor at the foot of the bed carelessly. He wipes Merlin’s chest and his own with the sheets and then lies beside Merlin, catching his breath and listening to Merlin doing so himself as well as he turns his head to the side to look at Merlin’s profile, his closed eyes, and the uneven raise and fall of his chest.

He swallows, and moves his hand over to Merlin’s, catching it on his own hesitantly and lacing their fingers together mostly to convince himself that this isn’t ending here, in his own way of promising _I’m here and I want to make this work._

Merlin is smiling when Arthur looks back up at him and he turns his head to look at Arthur through heavy eyes and from beneath a sweaty and messy dark fringe, making Arthur’s heart lurch inside of his chest.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, Merlin,” Arthur says when he watches Merlin closing his eyes.

Merlin frowns a little and then cracks one eye open. “Why?” he asks hoarsely, licking his lips.

“Just—” Arthur doesn’t know what to say that isn’t to going to make him look wretched and vulnerable, but he’s just scared that he’s going to wake up alone in the morning because Merlin would regret this and leave, breaking Arthur again.

Merlin quirks a weak eyebrow at him and then turns his whole body towards Arthur so they are lying there, facing each other. Arthur shifts a little, tangling their legs together under the sheets and bending their heads together so he doesn’t have to look Merlin in the eye as he speaks.

“Don’t leave in the morning,” he asks quietly, and even if his voice sound a little bit stained and pleading, Merlin only blinks and shakes his head no, moving closer.

“I won’t,” Merlin replies, giving him a small kiss in the corner of his mouth before he lets out a breath and closes his eyes again, his forehead almost touching Arthur’s.

Arthur trusts him, so he believes Merlin and falls into a deep sleep immediately with no worries of being alone in the morning again, feeling fortunate that he’s finally going to wake up with the person he most wants to be with.

 

 

EPILOGUE:

 

“I’m not moving into your flat,” Merlin says, wrapping the scarf tighter around his neck and looking pointedly ahead at the street.

Arthur rolls his eyes in slight exasperation. “The heating in your flat is broken, my flat has the most flawless heating system, plus you’re practically spending every night at mine so it’s not as if it’s going to make a big difference anyway.”

“We said we’d take this slow,” Merlin replies, raising an eyebrow at him and tugging at Arthur’s coat so he keeps moving.

Well, Arthur recalls saying that himself, but it’s not such a big step moving in together after two months— not when they’ve practically done that before for four years and it worked just fine. “It’s only for a couple of weeks until it gets fixed, then you can go back to that mess of a flat of yours.”

Merlin’s lips are curved upwards even though he’s stubbornly shaking his head.

After a few more strides, they stop just outside Camelot’s door. “Nice try, but I think we doing pretty good like this, aren’t we?” And with that and an impish grin, Merlin grabs Arthur by the nape and presses their mouths together in a dirty snog, sliding his tongue past Arthur’s lips and stroking it alongside Arthur’s just the way he knows Arthur likes it.

“Alright, whatever,” Arthur replies when they pull back, feeling a little bit vertiginous. He knows what Merlin is doing and yet Arthur can’t bring himself to be mad at him for trying to sidetrack the conversation with a breathtaking kiss. Instead, he lightly shoves Merlin towards the door of the pub in revenge and grins when Merlin trips over the step and Arthur has to catch him by the hip. Merlin frowns at him over his shoulder, but Arthur sees the smile playing at the corner of his lips.

With a quick peek around the place, they find their friends already settled and chatting good-naturedly in a table.

“Okay,” Merlin says, letting out a breath and twisting his fingers in Arthur’s coat pocket, “we’re ready to do this, right?”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says irritatedly even though he fidgets with the button of his coat himself. “We have to tell them someday, so we might as well tell them now that they are all gathered here.”

“Right, come on, then.” Merlin steps forward and Arthur follows as they slowly walk over, coming to a stop in front of the table where they are greeted with a chorus of _heys,_ and hesitant smiles. Neither Merlin nor Arthur have missed their friends turning their heads towards them with confused, shared glances and a quiet murmuring as they approached, probably wondering what could Merlin and Arthur possibly be doing coming to the pub _together._

Arthur and Merlin decline the offered chairs for them to sit, and when Arthur has made sure all their eyes are on them, he clears his throat. “We want to tell you something,” he says in that tone he uses to announce something important in a business meeting and always has his sister smirking at him mockingly— and Arthur ignoring her.

He sneaks a fleeting glance at Merlin sideways, who’s barely succeeding at holding back his smile.

“Yeah, well, we uh—” Merlin starts and when the words fail him, he reaches out and grabs Arthur’s hand in his own, covering what he can't express with words with a simple gesture. "You may want to get used to us together again, because it's happening, guys.” The way Merlin states it has Arthur smiling fondly and their friends’ faces contouring into smiles, too.

Morgana is the first one to react, raising an amused eyebrow and smirking affectionately. Gwen and Elena stare at them with bright eyes and smiles and Lance and Leon nod at them approvingly.

“Good for you, mates,” Percy says, raising his beer in the air; Elyan and even Gwaine joining him almost immediately.

“Yes, I’m glad you took my advice and confessed your undying love,” Morgana says, amusement clear in her tone.

Arthur doesn’t splutter because that would be beyond his dignity, so he only falls down onto his seat and tugs Merlin down with him, putting his arm around his shoulders and glaring at his sister.

They drink and chat for a while, but as the evening unfolds, Merlin and Arthur soon discover that theirs was not the only surprise the night held. Soon Gwen and Lance announce their marriage to the whole group, making the table explode in congratulations, hugs, and a bit of screaming from the girls. Merlin and Arthur are both almost sure there’s something going on between Elyan and Percy if the way they keep sending glances to each other from one end to the table to the other is any indication, and to make things better, Arthur and Gwaine make a truce after Arthur promises himself he’ll make an effort to try to get along with him, especially since he sees that Gwaine has bought a date to introduce the group.

Arthur moves to the bar to get the next round when their friends all seem to be engaged in deep conversations. He sits on a stool and, as he waits for the bartender to serve him, Arthur feels two arms wrap around his neck loosely, but tight enough so that Merlin’s body is pressed against Arthur’s back.

“It went well, right?” Merlin asks against his ear, rubbing one hand over Arthur’s chest absent-mindedly.

“It seems so,” Arthur replies, turning his face to the side and around to look back at the table. Merlin whirls his head around, too, and they both chuckle when Elena knocks the last beer down with an excited wave of her hand, and it falls square on Percy’s lap, startling him from his intense exchange of looks with Elyan.

“Yeah, I think we’re gonna be okay,” Merlin whispers, gazing amusedly at their friends.

They watch Gwen and Elena fussing with Percy’s shirt whilst Elyan suspiciously rounds the table and comes to help, Leon and Morgana arguing over something or other, and Gwaine and his date using the moment of distraction to sneak off to the loos, making Lance shake his head disapprovingly at them.

Arthur smiles and looking up at Merlin, he twines their fingers together and concludes that yes, they are all going to be alright.

 

FIN.


End file.
